An Unlikely Encounter: revision
by Songs.That.Serenade7
Summary: Katherine Quinzel worked as an artist in Gotham, but when she gets caught up the Joker's schemes, will she turn him in, or become his Harlequin?   Rated M for language, future lemons, sexual situations and innuendos. AU
1. The Party Starts

**AN UNLIKELY ENCOUNTER**

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**CHAPTER 1**

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It was hot.

It was really hot.

I woke up this morning, my hair sticking to my face, my body trapped in a cocoon of bed sheets I'd created in my sleep.

I could hear sirens blaring in the distance, the sound of angry caffeine-deprived drivers shouting obscenities greeted me; Just another annoying day in Gotham City.

I spared a glance at the clock. Sigh, I'm late again.

I wonder if today I can manage to find the energy to care. . .

Didn't think so.

It took me ten more minutes of coaxing my body to move for me to succeed in getting out of bed.

"Hey Katherine! You want an omelette, or some pancakes?" called my roommate, Roxanne from the kitchen. God bless that woman.

"How about both?" I yelled back, sleep evident in my voice.

I crawled to the bathroom to take a shower, removing an article of clothing with every step. I avoided looking in the mirror as I always do. No need to work myself up this early in my routine.

I adjusted the temperature of the water to how I liked it and stepped into the tub, where the seductive liquid invigorated my skin until I finally felt more alert.

I exited the shower and brushed my long hair into a messy bun, did my morning routine and got dressed.

As I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by the tantalizing scents of caramelized peppers, cheese, spices, and flapjacks. My stomach grumbled in agony.

I smiled for the first time today. "Roxanne, can you hear how much I love you right now?"

I live in a small three-roomed flat on the fourth floor of a decent-looking, brick apartment building at the edge of the city. Traffic wasn't that bad, and a Starbucks lined every street corner.

Roxanne grinned at me over her shoulder.

"I make you breakfast everyday," She replied. I sighed, "Exactly."

"Well, I'm not sure you'll have enough time to eat all of this," She turned and laughed at the stricken look on my face.

"I mean, weren't you supposed to meet up with an art dealer," she checked her watch, "-about two hours ago?"

I sighed again, "Roxanne, you know I couldn't care less about any responsibilities that I have," I took a seat at the table. "Besides, I'm not gonna miss out on your fabulous French cuisine to talk to some old geezer about how my work should be handled and shit."

Roxanne clucked her tongue at me while adding some salt to the eggs, "Usually at this point I'd laugh at your indifference, but I'd appreciate it if you could help me pay the rent every once in a while. I can't have you getting too lazy on me now." She turned and gave me one of her winning smiles.

"Besides, how are you gonna meet the guy of your dreams sitting on your ass, drawing all day?"

I rolled my eyes at her. I don't think Roxanne has ever had any problems finding the "guy of her dreams," she's so exotic. I mean, I guess in some ways we're pretty similar.

We're both tall, at least 5-8, both well endowed, and our tastes in music is the same. But that's where the similarities end.

Roxanne is slim, with dark eyes and smooth cocoa colored skin. She's social, outgoing, and strong-willed.

Roxanne tells me that I'm beautiful, what with my long shatan hair, shapely legs, curvy figure, slim face, and my big hazel eyes, but I can't see who she's looking at.

When I look in the mirror, all I see is my Turkish background, my pale skin, caterpillar eyebrows, and introverted personality. I can almost hear Roxanne disagreeing with me in my head, telling me to stop being so hard on myself.

"Oh fer sure. I bet I'll find Mr. Right sitting next to the hobo on the subway, holding out daisies and heart-shaped chocolate for me," I muttered sarcastically, munching on my omelette. Roxanne clucked her tongue again. "I wish you wouldn't be so private," she said, " How are you gonna expect to fall in love when you appear to hate the human race with such a fiery passion?"

"It's not just an appearance," I informed her, "I well and truly hate everybody,"

She stared at me.

I swallowed the last bit of my pancakes before I amended, "Except for you of course,"

Now Roxanne rolled her eyes, "Before you go, I wanted to warn you. There have been some reports of attacks in the dark part of town at night. Some people say that the . . . uh . . .. Joker," She hates saying his name, "Is up to his old tricks again,"

This got my attention.

Everyone in town knows about the infamous Joker.

Bombing the Hospital.

Robbing the Banks.

Kidnapping the innocent and forcing others to commit sins in order to retrieve them.

Being so demented and rebellious.

Basically, wrecking havoc in the streets of Gotham. Only, he's been dead for two years.

Or so we thought.

"Dude. Even if I did run into the Joker, what possible reason would he have to hold me hostage? I mean what would he do? Call my mom? She's in freaking Russia drinking Vodka and partying it up. She probably wouldn't even believe that the Joker was on the phone calling her asking for a ransom for me. He only takes interesting or valuable people into custody with him and his goons," I was starting to become bitter at this point, "He'd take one look at me and pass me right on by acting as if he'd never seen me cause I'm so freaking unimpor-

Roxanne slammed her hands down on the counter.

"Girl, you REALLY need some self-confidence," She began, "I don't know how you can look at yourself and not see. Babe, the Joker would see you, and he'd just take you on the spot due to the fact that you are just SO freaking beautiful, that he couldn't help himself."

Roxanne took a close look at me. "And why do you sound so down-trodden at the idea that the Joker wouldn't want to kidnap you?" she asked curiously.

"No real reason. It's just a blow to my ego," I couldn't tell Roxanne the true source of disappointment is that I've been obsessing over the guy for years. In fact, the whole reason for moving to Gotham was to get a chance to see him.

And then he died.

Before she could get any more suspicious, I left the apartment with the excuse of not wanting to be anymore late than I already was. I caught a glimpse of Roxanne giving me the we-will-talk-later look, before I flew out the door to the stairway and outside the building to begin my long trek to the "Coup de la Fleur" art studio on Buckingham Street in the city.

It was about 2:30 P.M. when I arrived.

I entered the studio to an angry looking Jeffrey Parkins, the art dealer for the establishment.

He was wearing an expensive gray suit with a loosely worn blue tie and the first few buttons of his white shirt was undone. His dark blond hair was sticking to his forehead and his face was perspiring. He would be kinda cute I guess, if it weren't for his small mud-colored eyes and his big-ish nose.

He looked like he'd been waiting outside in the heat for a while.

He glared when he saw me, "What happened to 10:00 A.M.?" he said angrily.

I shrugged, "It probably died in the war," I replied, unfazed by his harsh stare.

He looked shocked for a second before he recovered, "You're impossible you know that?"

Again I shrugged, "So I've been told. Listen, do you want my work or not? Tell me now so I can still make the lunch special at Denny's," I'm probably going to regret being so bitchy later.

His dark expression deepened. "I'm sorry, Am I wasting YOUR time?"

I didn't grace him with a response.

There was a long pause.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

He took a deep breath, "Listen," he began slowly, carefully choosing his words, "The only reason why I'm not biting your fucking head off right now, is because I need you for my art show next week. Understand though, that I am NOT the most patient man. You WILL meet ALL of your deadlines when I assign them. If not, I will make sure that you'll NEVER be able to sell your ANY of your art in Gotham EVER again. Are we clear?"

I sighed reluctantly at him, "Yeah."

"Good. Now go away before I fire you," he stated. Wow, this coming from the guy who just told me that he needs my artwork. Good luck holding your threats after that one bub.

I smiled to myself as I strolled out of the building. I mean, I was just interrogated, yelled at, threatened, and complimented in one foul swoop, and the day isn't even over yet. I broke like, eleven different rules with the guy, and got away with it.

I am on fire!

As I walked down the street in search of some lunch, I let my mind wander to Roxy's question earlier. Why DID I care so much? I mean, The Joker intrigues me sure, and he does have a few things going for him in the bad-boy attraction department, but do I have a crush on him or something? Is it serious?

Well, I HAVE drawn quite a few pictures of the Joker's face in my sketchbook.

I continued walking around town, but I wasn't really in search of anything anymore. I was merged so deep into my own thoughts, that my body was moving of it's own accord.

I shook my head at myself. What kind of person had to be messed up enough to have a crush on the most terrifying, disturbed, demented villain in Gotham City? Chuckling to myself as I was walking, I passed by a closed shop with the windows scratched, and the door was boarded up. I turned and looked at my reflection. There I saw myself in my usual attire; Beige boots, a patterned skirt, a mono-colored tank top, my Yin necklace (Roxanne has the Yang), and the light, silvery blue mascara I put on my eyelids.

What kind of person indeed? I guess people are right when they say "It's always the quiet ones . . ."

* * *

Fuck.

Popping sounds could be heard as he stretched his constricted muscles. His clothes were dirty and faded, his hair was that same vomit-green, his face, and still the picture of fear and dementia, and his make-up was caked on and cracked. He was not in a very good shape.

Two years in hiding could do that to a guy. He currently resided in a dingy gray, rusty abandoned warehouse off the coast of the Gotham City bay near the fishing boats and the loading docks. The Joker took a deep breath, '_I don't think I'll ever be able go around any goddamn fucking fish ever again_,' he thought cynically.

The warehouse wasn't made up of multiple rooms or anything. It was just basically a giant empty space alone. There were sleeping bags of various colors on the floor in every corner, but the biggest and most comfortable piece of furniture belonged to none other than the infamous Joker himself.

He was currently going through his plans in his mind, stopping to take notes on hypothetical situation every there and then.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and from the corner of his eye, he spotted one of his dumber-looking goons about to make one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Asking The Joker an undeniably stupid fucking question while he's so obviously busy doing something important.

"Hey Boss? New guy wants to know what your big 'Blowout party' scheme is." The goon stated dully, almost reluctantly.

The Joker sighed. He was going to have to remind these fuck-tards of their place in his presence.

He licked his lips and turned around to face the goon.

He paused for a moment and tilted his head to the right, sucking on his scars. "What is your name?" The Joker asked, allowing a sinister smirk to slowly creep up on his face. Telling the goon that he was, in fact, not at ALL happy with him despite the big smile on the Joker's face.

The goon turned pale, and hesitated to reply, tripping over his words and shuffling his feet in nervous fear. He could tell by the dark aura his boss was emitting that he was in serious trouble.

"Uh. Um. Boss, I-I- it wasn't me w-who wanted t-to know, I swear. It-It-I wasn't-"

"Shut the fuck up."

The goons mouth audibly closed with a snap, and a cold swear broke out across his forehead as The Joker got off his bed and started making his way toward the about-to-be-dead man.

The Joker chuckled darkly, "Funny. I recall asking you a question. And, I don't know about you but . . ." he paused to lick his lips, "Usually when I ask a question, I. Want. An. Answer." The Joker inched closer with every word and the goon was frozen in place.

Joker took a deep breath, "So. I'm going to ask you one. More. Time . . . What is your name?"

The goon began to shake uncontrollably, as he searched his mind for the one piece of information that his brain could not provide; seeing as how his fight or flight instincts were clouding up all thoughts.

The Joker was almost nose-to-nose with the rather unflattering, overweight goon.

The goon opened and closed his mouth, making a good impression of a fish out-of-water until he finally gained the courage to speak.

"J-Jason W-W-Wells b-boss."

The Joker thought for a bit. Taking a moment to memorize every detail of the panicked look, on the Mr. Jason Wells, The Joker came to a conclusion, on what he would do with the man.

He placed a hand on the goon's shoulder in an almost brotherly way.

"Listen. Jason, was it? Yes, Jason. Now, I'm feeling kinda," The Joker smirked, "Generous. I guess you could say. So I'm not gonna kill you." He saw Jason's shoulders relax a bit.

He grinned wider, "In fact. I'm in SUCH a good mood, that not only will I spare your life, but also, I'll humor you, and tell the uh, did you call him new guy? Yeah, like I said: The "New guy". I'll tell him what I'm up to.

The Joker felt the man let his guard down, confident in the fact that he had, in fact, not screwed himself over.

Smiling to himself as if he knew a secret that no one else did, The Joker turned to face his rather intimidating followers.

He had an announcement to make.

"Now," He began, "It seems to me that little Gotham city has gotten a little," The Joker licked his lips, "Com-for-ta-ble, with my absence," The Joker tsked, and shook his pale finger at his goons. "And we all know that we can't have that. So I've decided to make my grand entrance into the city, starting with a teensy little bank heist. Nothing special. Just something to let the people know that The Joker is back . . . And he's planning something," The Joker grinned devilishly, and turned back around to face Jason, who looked blank, and not at all intimidated by The Joker's gaze anymore.

'_We're going to have to change that_,' the Joker thought, before he pulled back his arm, and punched the goon in the jaw.

The goon's mouth twisted at a sickening angle, as Jason fell down like a sack of bricks, making aloud 'thud'.

The Joker got into Jason's face.

He lowered his voice.

"Next time you wanna ask me a question from 'the new guy' make the fuck sure that I've actually ADDED someone new to the group," The Joker lifted his body from the man crumpled on the floor in pain.

He turned away and made a motion with his hands, signaling all the goons to follow him.

As the rest of them were leaving the warehouse, The Joker looked back at the pathetic piece of shit lying on the floor in disgust.

He chuckled darkly. "Didn't anyone tell you Jason?"

The Joker turned around and exited the warehouse.

"I don't like liars."

* * *

God I'm hungry!

I've been walking around, distracted by my thoughts, until I somehow managed to wander right into the center of Gotham City! The city is like, two miles from the Coup de la Fleur art studio.

What was I on?

I sighed to myself, exasperated by the thought of having to decide between taking a dirty, smelly Gotham taxi, dried vomit on the floor and bad-tempered illiterate taxi drivers, or, god forbid, WALKING home.

I tried not to think about that though, as I passed by the most posh, snooty, expensive dining hall in the City. This is where Bruce Wayne and The mayor go to eat their meals. It usually holds the city's Christmas Bell Ball, an event that only invites the most exclusive of people. Celebrities almost.

Roxanne and I have always dreamed about attending one of their parties.

Roxanne sometimes jokes that we'd have to have sold some of our organs just to afford the type of clothing required for eligibility to enter into the grand hall.

Looking at that place always makes me die a little inside.

_'Someday_,' I thought.

Tearing myself away from my depressing thoughts, I turned my mind onto the most important topic at the moment.

Food.

Seeing as how I'm in the most populated area of the city, I'd say that a hamburger at McDonalds would be about seven dollars here.

I checked my wallet.

A deep dark pit of nothingness greeted me. As Always.

I let out an almost hysterical laugh. "Wonderful!" I exclaimed aloud, drawing looks from the people passing me by on the street. The stares I was getting from the locals only caused me to laugh louder with a falsetto pitch.

I tried to tone it down a bit, seeing the children start to hide behind their parents and whatnot, that is, until I realized that the closest atm-machine was at the bank, which was located further downtown.

Yay more walking!

Grumbling to myself, taking care to place my best bitch-look on my face, I walked quickly down the street in the direction of the bank, and I decided to let my thoughts wander once more.

You know, no one could really come up with a reason for the Joker's two-year absence.

Some people hoped that the Batman had killed him, or if not him, then something else. Perhaps Jesus.

Some, like Roxanne thought that he left the city for another, on the belief that he's had enough fun with the people of Gotham, and maybe he got bored.

Others, like me, knew deep down inside that the Joker hadn't left. And that he wasn't going to leave. I think he's planning something. Something big.

Of course, I could be wrong. I mean, I've held this belief for years, twistedly hoping that I'd get to see his face on the news once again. Or get some sign that he's alive and well. Something.

I smiled a bit while walking, thinking of what Roxanne would say if she knew my true feelings about the "gift" of the Joker being gone.

She'd send me strait to Arkham.

I arrived in front of the great staircase leading up to the main source of money in the city.

Gotham City Bank of America, or GCBA for short.

I Rolled my eyes and groaned at the fact that now I'm going to have to CLIMB the mountainous stairs leading up to the building after walking four miles strait in my least comfortable boots all day today. On an empty stomach on top of it.

Feeling the straining muscles in my legs, I trekked up the stairs, walked to the door, and collapsed onto a fancy overstuffed leather chair in the lobby of the back.

I let out an unrestrained moan of content when my butt was absorbed into the cushioned seat, drawing attention to me for the second time today.

_'Sigh. I'm too tired to give a shit right now_,' were my last thoughts as my body surrendered to silky promises of comfort coming from the chair.

I don't know how long I slept.

But when I woke up, it was getting dark outside, and there were the scattered array of old women and children gossiping and giving me disgusted looks. I had to smile like that.

Roxanne would have freaked if she knew that I fell asleep in a public place like some homeless person on the street.

Reluctantly, I got up from my now warm resting place, my clothes sticking to the leather of the couch, and I carried myself up to the atm-machine to take some money from my account.

I didn't even get to insert my debit card when a powerful and unexpected explosion from the back entrance of the bank surrounded my senses.

Little containers were tossed high into the air, and once they hit the ground, laughing gas was released.

Quickly attempting to gather up my stuff and get away without being noticed, the sight of the barrel of a .75 glock greeted me, pointed in between my eyes.

A tall, burly man dressed up as a clown, make-up and all, wearing a gas mask, grabbed my arm, and shoved me roughly into the thicker area of laughing gas and people.

He pushed me into the crowd, causing me to stumble and fall.

Looking up from the floor, I saw a dark silhouette through the thick fog of the laughing gas. The shadowy figure let out a long, loud, maniacal laugh.

My head started to feel light, and a goofy smile appeared on my face. The knowledge that I was probably going to die invaded my mind, but the gas kept my mind from sending signals to my body.

I stayed on the floor.

I was drowsy.

I was hungry.

I was probably gonna die.

I was about to close my eyes, before a gloved hand came into my vision and through the fog, I could see a faint smile on the figure above me.

The voice spoke.

"Hey. Hey! It's alright Hon, just don't attract any attention to yourself and the Joker won't kill you." The man whispered. The sound barely audible compared to the loud ringing in my ears.

Slowly, with the stranger's help, I got up to my feet, and I began to take small, shallow breaths as to avoid getting too crazy off of the noxious gases in the air.

All the heads of the hostage crowd whipped around when we heard an overly familiar, loud, obnoxious, spine-tingling laugh.

I froze on the spot. "Wait," I mouthed, "No way,"

"Hello Boys and girls! And welcome to the party! Ha!" A dark figure emerged far away to my right, and from that distance, I could only make out the fact that he was wearing a long purple overcoat, and matching purple pants, a green vest, and a chain that was attached to the side of his hip.

Of course the last thing I would notice would be his face and hair; I used to always tend to see that part last.

There was no mistaking it now. The shadowy figure is, in fact, the Joker.

'_Welcome home_,' I thought before I could stop myself.

The same thing interrupted my thoughts again; that abrupt cackling laugh.

The Joker stood up on a large Oakwood desk furthest away from the small circle of people in the center of the room.

There was a knife in his hand. His laugh lowered in pitch and deepened in intensity making a shiver go up my spine.

"Well children, I feel like playing a game. Don't you?" The Joker paused to switch his knife to his other hand, and lick his lips simultaneously.

He jumped off of the desk, and began to swing his body, almost as if he were dancing, toward the crowd, a mischievous smile plastered onto his face.

"Yes," He inquired, "I think that a game would be the absolute per-fect way to, uh, start this party out with a," The Joker stopped walking, and made a gun with his first two fingers connected, and his thumb raised, "Bang."

The Joker's eyes scanned the crowd quickly, searching for something.

"Hmmmm... I think I wanna play a classic game... maybe... Hide and seek?" The Joker laughed abruptly. Making the audience Jump or cringe. Some even cried.

I only smiled a little. I mean, C'mon. Gimme a break here, the dude's been "dead" for two years! I had almost lost all hope of his existence on this planet.

I sighed quietly. '_Not that I was supposed to have that kind of hope.'_ I thought, exasperated with myself.

The Joker had been pacing as my thoughts had run wild. His eyes were still scanning the crowd.

He turned on his heel and stood, looking as if he'd already come to a conclusion.

He grinned, "I'm sure you all know the rules of Hide-and-Seek, but just for those die-hard idiots, I'll explain them to you once more,"

"Somebody's gonna be 'It'. When the 'It' turns around to count, all the good little sheep are gonna hide, and when 'It' is done counting... 'It' is going. To. Find. You." He flashed us a large, toothy smile as he felt the curiosity rise from the crowd of hostages.

We all knew that there was a catch.

"Ha! There's no fooling you, huh Gotham? Yes, a nice little pussy game of Hide-and-Seek would be quite the pleasant surprise coming from me wouldn't it?" he smirked at us, "Unfortunately, all you babies will have to grow balls and man the fuck up. We're playing a big boy game now..."

He began to pace again, but slower this time.

"Yes, we're all big boys and girls now aren't we? And so, I say fuck that kind of kiddie game. Let's up the antics. You see this?" The Joker pulled a tiny device from the left pocket of his purple coat, and it had a big red button on it. He gestured to his hand and presented the little device for the entire crowd of people to see.

"This, my little sheep, is called a DETONATOR. And can anyone guess what this pretty little detonator might set off?" The Joker cupped his right ear with his right hand, and leaned toward the crowd, as is listening for a response to his question.

No one said anything. The answer was obvious.

A Bomb. The detonator sets off a bomb.

The Joker 'Harrumphed' exaggeratedly at our silence and chuckled quietly to himself.

"You guys are SUCH a great audience," The Joker licked his lips, "Well, despite your defiant silence, I'm sure that you all know the answer to. My. Question." The joker put on a falsetto voice, "But Joker? What do bombs have to do with the game hide-and-seek?" The Joker sucked on his bottom lip.

"Well, Peo-ple, I'm going to tell you what."

My heart dropped to my stomach. "I'm going to strap a bomb to 'It'. 'It' is going to look for all the little boys and girls one by one. And every single person. . ."

The Joker flipped his knife as he was finally approaching me, my heart beating in sync with his steps. Oh God.

"Must," The Joker licked his lips. Only a few more steps. . .

"Be," Two more steps.

"Found." The Joker himself stood right in front of me, and with my heart palpitating wildly inside my chest, I quickly look away, avoiding his eyes, but I stared at him through my side vision.

He pauses for a moment, and I can just barely make out his head tilting in curiosity.

Oh God.

He then walks away from me, and I let out the breath I was apparently holding.

Luckily, he didn't hear my loud exhale, as he starts to speak again.

"If 'It' doesn't find ev-e-ry single per-son, then I kill 'It', and everybody in the room. If 'It' finds ALMOST every person, for example, let's just say the 'It' doesn't find one measly little sheep. Then, 'It' will have the choice of letting the stray pig get the cut, or putting 'It'-self in my mercy. . ."

There were gasps scattered all around the room. Some people broke out into sobs, and others paled, looking petrified, almost like statues.

I, for one, felt nothing. On one hand, if I was gonna have to be 'It', and I lose, I'm at the Joker's mercy, and I could die by the Joker's hands. Which, for me, wouldn't be such a bad way to go I have to admit.

Jeez, I am such a weirdo. . .

But on the other hand. . . well. . . even though dying on behalf of the Joker is more appealing than other ways of leaving this world, I really don't want to explode. I know for a fact that Roxy would be heartbroken if, not only did I die, but also that she wouldn't even get to dress up my dead carcass for my funeral.

I chuckled. My logic is so warped.

I seemed to have chuckled a bit too loudly though, because the Joker froze mid-step, his head whipping around angrily towards the source of the offensive sound. The Joker saw me chuckling, and he started palming and playing with the detonator and knife in his hands.

Almost like a warning.

The Joker tilted his head, "Is somebody. . ? Laughing at me?" He asked incredulously.

I didn't hear him, and I continued to chuckle quietly. High off of the Laughing gas in the room, with funny thoughts about how Roxanne would perform my funeral in mind, I didn't notice his furious glare at all.

The Joker gripped his weapons tightly in his fists, and pivoted so quickly, his shoes mimicked the sound of car tires squealing after a particularly hard turn.

In only a few long strides, Joker was towering over me, and then he leaned in close to my face.

I stopped chuckling.

He was so close, that I had no choice but to look into his pitch-black eyes; so dark, that I couldn't separate his pupils from his irises no matter how long I looked.

The Joker smiled big and toothy. 'Oh shit, that's never a good sign,' I thought.

"Hmmmm. . . I'm pr-e-tt-y sure you know that I'm always up for a good joke. . . care to tell me what exactly what is so funny?" The joker moistened his lips with his tongue, causing me to feel it lightly on my own upper lip. We were that close.

Shivers wracked my body, and I assume that the Joker interpreted this as fear, judging by the expression on his face, when it was actually an entirely opposite emotion.

Anticipation.

The Joker suddenly frowned. He seemed confused. I'm probably the only person to go this long staring into the Joker's eyes without any hint of a nervous glance or hatred.

Suddenly, the Joker leaned away from my face, and he grinned down at me. He barked out a laugh.

"Tell me little girl. . . What is your name?" He dragged out his words, with exaggerated curiosity and a smile resembling that of a maniac.

I looked right into his eyes.

"Katherine Quinzel," I responded. My voice unwavering.

The Joker looked taken aback for a moment. I guess he wasn't expecting me to answer him so quickly. Perhaps not even at all.

The Joker didn't say anything for a moment. Then he reached up, and took my chin between his thumb and index finger, and tilted my face so that he could get a better look at me.

Without releasing his hold on my face, the Joker leaned in close to me again, and whispered in my ear.

"I think I've found 'It' . . ."

* * *

For some reason, my heart dropped.

The Joker didn't say '_I think I've found 'It'_,' like he was discovering something new and precious; he said it like he was trying his hardest to overcome me with fear. He was trying to cause me pain.

Sigh, well what did I expect our first encounter to be like?

Roxy's words repeated in my head "_Babe, The Joker would see you, and he'd just take you on the spot, due to the fact that you are just SO freaking beautiful, that he couldn't help himself," _Yeah right, I thought bitterly.

The Joker, pleased to see some form of disappointment on my face, though still mildly surprised that I didn't hold any other stronger emotions coursing through my body, let go of my face, and strides away merrily.

The Joker opened his arms extravagantly, and gestured to me with a suggestive smirk, "Guess what piggies! I've found our 'It'! Lucky lady Katty Quinzel is going have the wonderful honor of being responsible for ALL of your deaths today!" The Joker let loose a loud, cackling chuckle, and spared a few evil glances at me.

The look of disappointment was not the kind that he was looking for. Mine was more of an 'Oh man my gelato just melted' as opposed to a 'I've been given a death sentence that I will most likely serve' kind of disappointment, which most likely frustrated him most of all.

He clapped his hands together, "Well . . . Cat-ty . . ." The Joker licked his lips, "I don't see any reason to dilly-dally any longer. I'm sure that you're just _dying _to get to this. Now, lets get you all e-quipped."

Five of the goons that surrounded the crowd in a circle came forward, and since I was located towards the center of the group of people, they violently shoved some innocent bystanders out of the way.

I was flanked on both sides with burly, intimidating, skinheads, and they each grabbed one of my shoulders to hold me in place. Then, the other three goons, two of which had tattoos covering their entire bodies with crew cuts and dark hair, and the third was shorter than me, and had wavy longish hair, but was dark-skinned and packed with some serious muscle.

I rolled my eyes. What does the Joker feed these barbarians? Fucking Steroids with their Frosted Flakes every morning? The goons who weren't holding my shoulders were also carrying the bomb.

It looked like a big circular shoebox with a black smiley face on it, except for the fact that there were wires protruding out of the device from every angle. There were all sorts of straps and wires attached to it though. It looked as if it would have taken a few days just to get all the wires all tangled up like this.

It was a bomb squad's worst nightmare.

And it was going on me.

_Now_ I started to feel uncomfortable.

Just to be difficult, I decided to make it as hard as possible for the goons to place 'happy death' on me by bending my arms when they try to slip it through, and occasionally obtaining random seizures, which entailed a lot of sharp movement, which, in turn, threw them off, causing them to glare angrily and occasionally shove me, by doing so, making it so that the Goons would have had to start all over again.

The Joker looked on at the show I was performing with high amusement and a hearty amount of curiosity as to the reasons behind my behavior.

'_So,_' the Joker thought, '_The 'Kit-Kat' is comfortable with me touching her and speaking to her and looking at her,'_ the Joker raised an eyebrow in thought, _'But she seems quite uneasy about the goons' close proximity . . . how . . . fascinating_,' he thought with a grin, _'I think I like this Kath-er-ine Quin-zel_.'

Five or so minutes later, the goons _finally_ were able to successfully attach the very large, and unsurprisingly heavy smile-bomb to my body. Making me look like a suicide bomber or something equivalent to that.

When they stepped away from me, the Joker took his place at my left, and wrapped a large, but at first not very comforting arm around my shoulders, presenting me to the crowd.

"Do you see this person everybody? C'mon, stand on people's shoulders if you must. It is crucial that you look at her right now. This may be the last face you'll ever see after you go into hiding," The Joker smirked down at me and gave me a really quick once-over, "But look at the bright side! At least she's not some ugly old fat wench with a pinched face and mousy hair and bad breath."

In the crowd, there was actually a woman who fit his description perfectly, and a few others, men and women, that shared those kinds of bad traits.

The Joker laughed at the unfortunately undesirable humans scattered in the crowd, "Yeah, I'm talking about you fatsos. I mean, I would feel like shit if the last face I saw was that of an ugly fat bitch! Wouldn't you?" The joker let out a deep laugh, and the vibrations transferred into my body.

I was kind of blushing, because even though for most, they'd assume that everything the Joker said was a direct insult to their person, it turns out that The Joker wasn't lying.

He genuinely doesn't think me an 'ugly fat bitch,' and to me, that's like him directly calling me beautiful.

The Joker once again clapped his hands together, startling me out of my thoughts and attracting the entire room's attention.

The Joker's eyes scanned the room back and forth. I couldn't help but notice that he still had his arm around my shoulders.

"Hey party people! Looks like we're ready to get on with the show! Good thing I picked this bank! It's so spacious and monotonous, I bet it'll take little Katty Katherine over here hours and _hours_ to find all the _seventy-five_ hostages," The Joker stated with glee.

My mouth dropped open. _Seventy-five?_ I could feel the beginnings of sweat starting to gather on my forehead, the magnitude of the situation finally creeping into my conscious through the thick haze of my dream-like, post-laughing gas state. The lives of all these people rely on my ability to successfully locate them in time.

And out of the _seventy-five _people in this room aside from me, I can only miss one. And even then I'm not sure if he'll be feeling merciful enough to spare our lives or not. This could all be some elaborate trick for us to let our guards down and totally fuck us over (so to speak) as our backs were turned.

Shit. He could decide to fucking nuke us all at this very second!

Where are the fucking police in this God-forsaken Hell-bound city?

The Joker glanced at a watch that was hidden under his sleeve. He held his chin in the inner curve of his gloved thumb and index finger, as he thought for a moment.

His eyes were closed, and despite my current situation, I still risked a glance at his chiseled face, trying my hardest to be conspicuous.

The Joker's eyes snapped open and his eyes shined brightly with delight. "Ha Ha! I just did a little Men-tal math in my head, and I've decide that since there are about thirty-two rooms in this building, and _seventy-five_ of you, we'll have two or three to a hiding spot. Does that sound peachy to you? Of course it does! Everyone knows that the Joker is well known for his mercy and sense of fairness," The Joker made a disruptive 'Pfft!' sound and once again burst out laughing.

It sounded a little different though, not quite as high, and the tone was off. He was clutching at his stomach, and his eyes were shut tightly. I smiled at him.

The Joker composed himself eventually, and by then, the entire crowd, so riled up by his appearance and statements and overall draining persona, were just awaiting their fates with morbid expressions.

He then turned to me when he had gotten a hold of himself.

"Alright now little Kitty-Kat. Go to that corner over there and count to 200 in Mississippi seconds," The Joker licked his lips and wagged his forefinger at me, "Now remember, don't count too slowly, or else you'll have less time. I'm going to give you 1 hour and thirty minutes to find all thirty-two groups. Okie-dokie?"

The joker didn't give me anytime to answer though, because as soon as he was done speaking, A goon came up behind me, and shoved me in the direction of the corner I was gonna stand in.

I felt him leave once I got there though. And slowly, with a sigh, I began to count.

_1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, 4 Mississippi . . . _

As my mental counting continued in the same rhythmic pattern and time sequence, I could hear behind me a symphony of scuffling feet, sounds of protest and pleading, and the cry of children being separated from their parents.

_Oh My God, of all the humans in the world to choose to have the responsibility of finding people who's lives are in jeopardy, why oh why did it have to be the only one who looses_ everything_ ALL. THE. TIME? _I thought, beginning to get frustrated.

_11 Mississippi, 12 Mississippi, 13 Mississippi, 14 Mississippi . . ._

The room was clearing out quickly, and as an after thought, I tried to listen carefully to where the sound was going, as to get a little idea on which way to go when the time comes.

I was a little late though, because seconds later all sound disappeared all together, and when I tried to remember where the sound came from, it sort of interfered with my counting, and so I stopped.

_40 Mississippi, 41 Mississippi, 42 Mississippi, 43 Mississippi . . ._

Silence greeted me from all sides, the only sound in the room now was that of my own breathing, which came out in short, shallow pants.

Ok. So there are thirty-two rooms in this building, and seventy-five people inhabiting them. That means that there'll be . . .

"God-fucking-damn, Joker," I mumbled under my breath, "Fuck you for making me do math. I HATE Math,"

"Oh, well _please_ excuse me for my rudeness _mademoiselle,_" The Joker said, manifesting behind me.

I Think I might've jumped about three feet into the air.

"Holy Shit!" I exclaimed. I couldn't breathe for a few moments, and I tried to recollect my breath and remember which number I was on while attempting to continue the same pace of counting. '_Too many things at one time_,' I thought warily.

_75 Mississippi, 76 Mississippi, 77 Mississippi, 78 Mississippi_ . . .

I tried to not turn around as I felt the Joker circled me, his eyes boring into the back of my skull. I desperately tried my best to not falter when counting, which meant ignoring every feeling that came from my body due to how close the Joker was.

He came up right behind me, so close that I could feel his breathing on the top of my head.

My eyes shot open, when he leaned down to sniff my hair.

"Hmmm..," The Joker sighed, "Freshly shampooed hair. I love it."

'_Oh shit_,' I exclaimed in my mind. '_Which number was I on again? Oh right'._

_101 Mississippi, 102 Mississippi, 103 Mississippi, 104 Mississippi . ._ .

When he ran his gloved fingers up and down my spine, drawing shivers from my body, that's when I knew. He's trying to throw me off of my counting. He probably wants me to have less time to find all the hostages, thus, giving him better odds for the opportunity to kill us all. I mean, why else would he choose to molest me at probably one of the most crucial moments of my life?

This realization encouraged me to concentrate even harder on my meticulous thoughts. I squeezed my eyes shut and plugged my ears with my fingers.

I just wish that I could do something about my sense of _feel._

_120 Mississippi, 121 Mississippi, 122 Mississippi, 123 Mississippi . . . _

I could feel the Joker notice that I was trying to block him out, having caught on quickly to his initial plan. So he amplified the intensity of his ministrations.

I could feel him pull my hair behind my left ear, and he nuzzled that area with his nose, exhaling air on the nape of my neck.

_132 Mississippi, 133 Mississippi, 134 Mississippi, 133 Mississippi . . . wait, no. . . 137 Mississippi_ . . .

"Katty girl, why are you ignoring me? Don't you wanna play with me?" The Joker whispered into the plugged ear, drawing a low whimper from my mouth.

_146 Mississippi, 146 Mississippi, 146 Mississippi . . . Oh Shit, no wait, um . . . 150 Mississippi, 151 Mississippi . . . _

I could feel him place his hands on either side of my hips, slowly trailing his fingers up, finding the hem of my shirt, and dragging it up with his fingers as he went, exposing my bare skin.

I seriously considered just saying 'Fuck it,' to being responsible and turning around to jump his bones, but then I remembered all those desperate people who needed me . . .

Dammit! Being responsible is something Roxanne would do! Not me! Why am I here and not she? Sigh.

_172 Mississippi, 175 Mississippi, 176- Wait! Oh No! What number was I on? Oh God, Um, now I think . . . 178 Mississippi, 179 Mississippi ._ . .

I was so close to 200, but as the Joker kept on nuzzling me and touching my bare skin, I was beginning to lose focus! Oh God, I'm going to need all the time I can get! Jesus, I swear to you I'll bake you some holy cookies or something if you help me make it through the day!

196 Mississippi, 197 Mississippi, 198 Mississippi, 199 Mississippi . . .

I snatched my body away from the Joker's prying hands, my body immediately missing his touch. I turned around and ran to the elevators of the Bank that led to the rooms upstairs where I would find the hostages.

Behind me, I could hear the Joker growling in frustration, probably angry that his plan to delay me hadn't worked as he'd hoped.

But I had more important things to think about right now. Like saving these people and getting out of this godforsaken place without setting off this godforsaken bomb strapped to my chest.

I could've sworn that the smiley face shone for a second as I entered the elevator.

It's like the world was moving in slow motion. My thoughts were traveling around in my brain at speeds close to 100 miles per hour. I couldn't stop for one second to grab them and take time to fully analyze it.

It think that this is what happens when people have a panic attack.

Ok, so there are thirty-two rooms in the building, and seventy-five people, then that means that there could be two to a room, and one room would remain.

Something the Joker said earlier while he was explaining the rules of the game came back to me.

"_We'll have two or three to a hiding spot . . ." Two or three to a hiding spot? _I thought. And then it came to me like someone just slapped me with a chunk of wet catfish.

Some of the rooms will be empty. Oh wow, way to make this difficult Joker.

Ok. So I've got to limit my time to each room to look for people. I can't afford to waste any second on a room with no hostages in it. My brain started to hurt, and as I exited the elevator, even though I knew my time was limited, I slumped down onto the floor from the wall opposite of the elevators.

I've never felt so rushed before in my entire life.

"Please Joker," I whispered, "Give me a hint."

"A hint you say? What's in it for me little Kitty Kat?" the Joker's voice came from my right, which, in turn, made me shriek very loudly and fall off balance.

The Joker gave me a sympathetic look, "Yeah, my stunningly good looks can shock any woman. I just have that effect."

My face was red as I tried to recollect my breath for the second time in not even five minutes.

"Goddam! Can you not fucking scare me shitless at every single opportunity?" I yelled, my hand on my heart and my head beginning to throb.

The joker looked kinda ticked off. "Well then, I could've sworn that some little birdie was asking for my help just a second ago. I obviously must be mistaken. I'll be on my way now," The joker turned to stand up from the floor and leave, but I stopped him with my hand on his chest.

_Oh my God I'm touching him!_

It took a second for me to calm down though.

"I never . . . said . . . I didn't want your help . . .. It's just," I paused to swallow the saliva building up in my mouth, "Your methods of making your presence known . . . Is questionable . . . at best,"

The Joker chuckled deeply beside me, and shrugged.

"I never said I was perfect babe. Now do you want me or not?" The Joker grinned at me, the paint on his face cracking where he smiled, and before I could answer '_I want you,_' I remembered how the Joker likes his . . .. Play on words . . . So to speak.

"I want your help, yes." I replied slowly, testing my words. The Joker guffawed, and slapped my back heartily.

"Oh! What good fun! I like you Kit-Kat. You're smart, and because you're smart I think I'll give you extra hard riddles that are clues to where each little piggy is hiding in this Crack-whore bank." The Joker smiled mockingly at me.

"Does this work out to your benefit little girl?"

I grumbled under my breath. The Joker frowned jokingly.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

I just waved him away.

He grabbed my hand mid-air, and got up real close to my face, his eyes were dark and he was wearing a scowl. "Don't disregard me like some homeless person on the street asking you for money." He growled.

"I want people to answer the questions I ask them. Agreed?" I nodded quickly.

He let me go, and straitened out his purple jacket and green vest. "Now," he began sternly, "I already told you that I'm in a good mood. So I'm going to help you."

I felt a small smile creep up on my lips.

"But."

The smile faded.

"There's a catch." I sighed and rolled my eyes as if to say 'just get on with it.'

The Joker frowned, "Do not take this lightly little Kitty. I'm not an idiot. If I wanna play, you're going to LOSE."

The Joker picked up a lock of my hair between his fingers, and began to twirl it, considering something.

"Every time you ask me for a hint, you've got to answer one question. Honestly," He added as an afterthought, "And no funny business. Trust me. I'll know. Now, before I let you go on your first hint, do we have a deal?"

The Joker's gloved hand appears before me as the representation of me about to make a deal with the devil. On Any other occasion, I would've taken more time to think this through, but really, what other choice do I have?

Tentatively, I stuck out my right hand, and I shook his, slowly, but firmly.

"Deal." I responded wearily.

The Joker grinned, and leaned into me until our noses were almost touching.

"By the way," he added, "You've been on the clock this whole time."

My eyes widened. The Joker smiled, "Now you have and hour and _fifteen_ minutes. Good luck!"

The Joker quickly pushed me, as a way of urging me to move, seeing as how I'm somehow _fifteen_ minutes behind schedule. Asshole! There's no way that little conversation took _fifteen_ minutes!

I turned around one last time to glare at the Joker over my shoulder, but of course, he had already disappeared.

Fury then erupted through my veins when I discovered that he left without even giving me my first hint! That sneaky, slimy, slithery-

Wait. What if he did give me a hint? I searched my thoughts for anything he could have said that would be able to be used as a clue.

C'mon Katherine. Think. What was the last thing he said? The only thing that seemed of any value during our agreement on the floor facing the elevators, was when he shook my hand and pushed me in a certain direction . . .

Oh wow. Really joker? That's it? THAT is what you call a clue?

Really now, I certainly hope his clues won't all be as subtle and light as that one.

Before I could finish my thought, I spun on my heel, and ran in the direction that the Joker had pushed me towards before he disappeared.

The hallway looked as if it would drag on to the ends of the earth. There were only about three floors in this building, and currently, I was on the second. The Bank makes up for it's less that impressive height, by stretching wide, taking up the space of almost two other buildings.

And while it seems like this would make it easier for me to find the hostages, it's really not.

Because there are rooms scattered around the floors, some are located in the department areas, and some are just down the hall. Like the one I'm heading towards right this moment. I know that it doesn't seem very wise for someone to try the first door they see; the closest one, when dealing with a guy like The Joker.

Like, for all I know, that room could be on of the empty ones that are just there to fuck with my mind! In any other case, someone else would be smart, and choose the secluded, hidden rooms, but with me, I'm just like fuck it. I mean, it's right there, I might as well just try it.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I don't wanna walk anymore than I have to or something crazy like that. Laziness? Me? Oh Pfft!

Once I reached the door though, I didn't think that it would be wise for me to just, waltz right on the fuck in there like somebody owes me some money or something.

I mean, I guess I could do that if I were some 250 lbs weight lifting skinhead with the IQ of about twelve. But since I'm not, I think I have the right to be a little cautious.

So there I stood. Chewing on my damn fingernails in fright, of what might await me on the other side of this door. Gathering my courage, I stared at the pasty blue wallpaper and fake potted plants that lined the walls of this hallway.

Finally, using all the reserves of what's left of my courage, I put my hand on the copper doorknob, twisted it, and pushed my way inside of the room.

What I found inside shocked me.

There.

All in ONE FUCKING ROOM.

Were the hostages.

I cannot believe it.

Why in fucking God's NAME, would Joker put everybody, in a cramped storage space? He told me that I had to look in multiple rooms to find them! I was all prepared to go all Mission Impossible on this building and stuff.

I just stood there and rolled my eyes. Typical.

The Hostages in the room weren't in the best shape though, some were tied to each other, others had tape, or some kind of Gag in their mouths, and a few unlucky ones were sporting black eyes.

They all burst into sound when they looked up and saw it was I though.

"Oh calm down you sissy little shits."

I wasn't surprised to hear a voice I was quickly familiarizing myself with appear right beside me, with no hint of warning, or any kind of signal to inform me that he was coming.

The Joker didn't turn towards me, but he spoke to me as he stood on my left side, staring into the rooms of gagged hostages without feeling.

"You're the first one," He said, a hint of astonishment creeping into his voice as continued to speak.

"You know? Because usually, when I get some ignoramus in this kind of situation, they always do the opposite of what I tell them," The Joker turned to face me, creepy smile still in place, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes now.

He tilted his head at me. "You figured out my clue, and you took it. You didn't even hesitate. You . . ." The Joker licked his lips, testing out his words as if they were a foreign concept. "Trust-ed me?"

The Joker looked into my eyes expectantly, as if waiting for an answer, but when I opened my mouth to give him a reply, he interrupted me,

"And the funny thing is. I always do this to people. I always make them do difficult shit. Making them jump through hoops of fire, into pits of ravenous crocodiles, but they never even realize that they could have just walked on over to the finish line,"

I shook my head at him, trying to process what he said.

"Wait," I told him, collecting my thoughts, "So lemme just make sure that we're uh," I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, "Clear. You were about to lead me through a wild goose chase for an HOUR and FIFTEEN MINUTES? When all I had to do was open this fucking door?" My voice was rising a bit, and I bet my face was reddening.

"Now, don't twist up your panties kid. It was all in good fun-"

"IN GOOD FUN! I was about to put EFFORT into something that I DIDN'T want to do! Do you even know how big of a step that is for me?" I was panting now, my face the epitome of anger.

"I-"

The Joker shut me up, by taking my hand, and pulling me in really close.

He leaned his head on my neck, his breath tickling the sensitive skin, all my anger and protests flew out the window at his possessive grip.

"Be careful little Kitty," he breathed, "Watch how you talk to the big, bad, wolf, or he might decide to eat you UP."

Shivers ran through me as his words that held a double meaning rang through my body.

"Hmm," He whispered, "You smell delicious. I almost wanna take you home with me."

My heart was racing faster and faster, and my legs were about to give out. His voice was so depend seductive. Everything about him enticed me to the point of it feeling like a drug.

Before I thought I couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly he released me, and pushed me roughly backwards into the goons, that had a t some point, appeared behind me.

Quickly, he took off the bomb strapped to my chest with the press of a button, and then he shoved me into yet another goon, who this time, put a black bag over my head.

Panicking, I began to struggle against the grip of the goon, who had begun to drag me in an unknown direction.

Faintly I could hear the Joker's voice, "I'm TERRIBLY sorry Kitty. I really was planning on letting you go after this, but there's that question of mine that I need answering and, well, no hard feelings huh?"

The Joker chuckled.

Then everything went black.

* * *

The ride was long and uncomfortable, something was relentlessly jabbing into my side, and every once in a while the goons would make some sexist comment about my body. When they did that I just rolled my eyes and ignored their immaturity.

One tried to touch me towards the end of the ride, but a swift knee to the groin prevented any further groping from them. I guess that nobody wants to deal with a "Pms-ing little bitch," as they were so kind to name me.

I estimated that it was about thirty minutes later when I heard the doors of the van open with a bang. The goons in the van with me picked me up and manhandled me into a room, and dumped me unceremoniously on a large piece of furniture.

They hadn't bothered removing the black bag from my head, luckily for me, they had the sense to put a bunch of tiny holes in the bag, so that I wouldn't die of suffocation or anything, and so I just kind of sat there on a bed or something, without my sense of sight.

I listened intently for anything that might give away a location, so that I could possibly have SOME kind of idea of where the hell I was.

As far as I knew, we didn't go on a any planes, so I'm sure that I'm still in the same country, but the drive felt unusually long, so we might be in a different state.

I sighed. Great.

My thoughts began to drift in the direction of what happened to me today.

'_So let's review,' _I thought sarcastically_, 'What exactly happened today?'_

Well I remember waking up.

Eating omelettes and pancakes made by my best friend.

I went to go see that shit-face of an art director, Jeffrey Parkins to have him bitch at me about meeting deadlines.

Then I went to go get something to eat, but I had no money so I went to the bank.

And then I got manipulated by the infamous Joker, who somehow came back from the dead, and decided to kidnap me.

Right. I'd say this day is going considerably well.

I took a moment to wonder about those poor people tied and gagged in that small room.

I hope their okay. I feel kinda bad now that I totally ignored them to talk to the Joker and stuff.

AND STUFF.

I couldn't even begin to describe my feelings on what happened to day with Joker. He was just so . . . touchy, feely. . .

Before I could delve any deeper into the thoughts surrounding the ever-elusive Joker, the devil himself burst through the door.

I knew that it was he, because when the door opened, the entire room went silent and still.

"Lucy! I'm home!" The Joker exclaimed. His footsteps were loud and heavy as he approached me.

"Oh you wouldn't BELIEVE the day I've had, honey. That Fred from accounting still has it in for me. Is dinner almost ready?"

The joker's footsteps kept getting closer and closer, and it didn't seem like he was slowing down. I almost felt as if he was planning on plowing right on into the furniture. When his close proximity reached the point where I could hear his shoes squeaking every time I took a step, his feet squeaked one final time, and suddenly I bounce up in the air as the Joker jumps onto it.

I let out a really girly shriek when I went airborne, and made an 'OMPH' sound when I landed back on the bed.

I could hear the Joker chuckling on my left.

"Oh sweetie, I just wanna collapse I'm so tired, but why. Don't. You. Join. Me. hmmm . . ?" I only felt the Joker's touch for a moment, because suddenly he pulled back, and gave a sharp inhale of breath.

The joker growled, "Who's the GENIUS who decided that it would be okay to put a fucking plastic bag over her head like some deranged animal?" The Joker's deft fingers worked on the string on the back of my neck, and within seconds I could breathe in fresh air once again.

I gasped loudly. Thank goodness that I've been taking shallow breaths this whole time, or I might not have been able to gather enough air for my body.

I couldn't really focus on that though. My mind was trying to wrap itself around the idea of me being the Joker's wife. I couldn't even picture it correctly.

The Joker was on his feet, and he was walking around his goons like a vulture stalking a pile of dead carcasses. He had somehow managed to pull out a knife from his pocket so casually, that they didn't even notice it, until he started playing with it in his hands.

"I'm sure that none of you want to die today," The Joker began, pausing to lick his lips, "But then again, nobody does. And, well, if nobody wants to tell me who is responsible for this unacceptable act of bar-barian-ism . . . Then I guess I'll just start cutting people at random. Now who wants to be first?"

No one raised their hands.

The Joker sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Well alright then, I guess I'm gonna have to do this the classic way. ." The Joker lifted up his right index finger, "Alright now how does this go? Oh yeah, uh, Eeinie, meenie, miney, moe, I am going to cut your toe. If you holler, I won't let go, Eeinie, meany, miney, moe, I. WANT. YOU."

The Joker's finger stopped at a rather lanky, unattractive goon who had been sweating profusely throughout the entire arrival of the Joker.

He looked guilty.

The Joker held the knife by the tip of the sharp blade, and was positioning his arm like he was going to throw the deadly weapon at his face.

"Hold still now," The Joker ordered, his tongue flicking out at the side of his mouth in mock concentration, "We wouldn't want to hit something vital, now would we?"

The Joker pulled his arm back a fraction, and he was about to toss the knife into the poor goons fa-

"Wait Boss! It wasn't me! It was Tommy! Tommy thought that we should keep the bag on the girl. He's the one who did it! Please don't kill me," The goon begged, his body was shivering with fear, and it looked as if his legs were about to give out at any moment.

The Joker rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and turned to face what I assumed to be 'Tommy.'

"Oh little Tommy-boy. Now, why didn't you speak up for poor Andrew over there?" The Joker tilted his head to the side, and clicked his tongue at Tommy.

The Joker gave Tommy absolutely no warning before he pulled back his arm and threw the knife directly in between Tommy's eyebrows.

Tommy's body crumpled to the floor pathetically, and the Joker took a few steps toward him, bent over, and pulled the knife out of Tommy's head.

The Joker then turned around and threw his knife directly into Andrew's foot.

Andrew screamed in pain and began hopping around, begging and pleading for somebody to help him stop the bleeding.

The Joker grabbed Andrew's face and looked right in his eyes.

"If you snitch on your fellow goons ever again, Next time I'm gonna aim for your dick."

The Joker pushed Andrew violently on the floor, not bothering to remove his knife from the crying man's foot.

"Fucking baby." The Joker mumbled.

That's when the Joker turned around to face me, my mouth dropped open in horror, and my eyes wide.

The Joker turned to face me fully, and grinned.

"Don't think that I forgot about you. There's still the matter of a question that needs answering."

"You-you, just, it, why?" I spluttered out uselessly, I mean, that bag wasn't too bad. Certainly not bad enough for someone to fucking throw a knife in someone's head and stab another person over!

The Joker tsked and wagged a finger at me condescendingly, "Oh Kitty Katty Kathy, You might want to ask me the important questions right now, like for example, what happened to, oh you know, those hostages at that bank or something? Just a suggestion."

I couldn't really process this information in my mind right now, seeing as I had just witness a, you know, HOMICIDE. But I tried nonetheless.

"Wait, yeah, the hostages at the bank. What did you do to them?" I asked biting my lip, dreading what I knew would not be a happy story.

"Well you see Katty-girl, I decided to-"

BEEP BEEP. My eyes widened considerably.

BEEP BEEP.

The joker huffed loudly, annoyed at the sound disrupting him in the middle of his sentence.

Slowly and stiffly, I took my IPhone out of my pocket.

Wow, what great timing you have Roxanne . . .

I answered it.

"Hello?" My voice came out tiny and timid.

"Oh hey Katherine," Said Roxanne, "It's good to know that you're not dead or anything bad like that. I mean, you've only been gone for about," There was a pause, and I assumed that she was checking the time, "14 HOURS."

I laughed nervously, "Oh hey, that long already? Well Roxanne, now's not exactly the BEST time for me to-"

The Joker snatched the phone from my hand, "Um excuse me, if you don't mind too dearly, would you kindly hang the fuck up?"

The Joker looked like he was about to hang up on her himself, when his facial expression changed to that of confusion, and he handed the phone back to me.

"Umm hello?" I asked again.

"So, you wouldn't BELIEVE what just happened, girl. So, I was talking to my best friend right? And then all of the sudden, I hear a voice that sounds awfully similar to the Joker's, and, well, if it hadn't been for you forcing me to watch every single newscast about the Joker everyday for YEARS, I would've assumed that it was a fake," Roxanne clicked her tongue, "But it wasn't. So, uh, care to tell me why the Joker, who's dead by the way, just . . . HAPPENS to be in your presence?"

I sighed exasperatedly, "Really Roxanne, It's a LONG story. I'll tell you later."

"No, you're going to tell me RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. Why are you with Joker? Did he kidnap you?"

"Girl! This is really not the time," I looked over at the Joker, who was currently tapping his fingers on the bed impatiently, his eyes boring into my head, and his body was emitting waves of hardly repressed irritation.

"Babe. Just like, where are you?"

I looked around. "I'm on a bed, in a really big, really nice-looking room," Those were the only things that I knew of my location.

"You're on a BED?" Roxanne exclaimed incredulously, "The JOKER'S bed? Katherine, what do you think you're doing sleeping with the Joker? What if he has diseases or some shit-"?

"Roxanne," I interjected, "I am NOT sleeping with the Joker." I flinched when I realized that the Joker heard what I just said.

The Joker's eyebrows rose up into his hairline, and his face melted into cocky smirk.

Quickly I turned away from him, my face burning with embarrassment.

"Katherine . . . is he going to kill you?" Roxanne asked quietly from the phone.

I felt a little bad for her at that moment, she must be going crazy with trepidation right about now.

"I don't think that he's going to kill me." I stated.

"Girl, just promise me that you'll-"

The Joker finally snapped, his patience worn out, and he snatched the cell phone from my hand once again, and retracted his arm to throw my IPhone into the wall, shattering it.

"Wait! But I-"

"That girl was seriously getting on my nerves. I mean really! Absolutely no manners. Doesn't she know that it's rude to interrupt people?" The Joker looked back at my mutilated phone with dispassion, and looked back at me.

"Don't worry about that piece of shit. I'll get you a new phone," The Joker amended.

I couldn't work up the energy to get indignant about this. After all the hubbub today, I just wanted to go surrender to those fluffy-looking pillows behind me, and sleep for a long, long time.

Just as I was about to lie down, The Joker grabbed me by my shoulder and pulled me to his chest, his face inches from mine.

"Oh, no you don't. I'm not letting you do anything until I. Get. My. Answer. Now," The Joker Licked his lips, "Why aren't you scared of me?"

There was a really long, really tense pause. Nobody dared to breathe. Especially not the goons in the corner of the room, who were trying to wrap up Andrew's foot.

"I . . . can't tell you." My voice came out quivering and squeaky. I was so nervous that I could feel my heart beat in my neck.

I could feel the blood rushing up to my face, as I saw the Joker tilt his head and narrow his eyes at me, both incredulous and annoyed.

"You see. This is exactly what I'm talking about. Because, well, usually, when I get into a girl's personal space, I'm either fucking her, or scaring the shit outta her, and either way, when I ask them questions, they don't. Even. Hes-i-ta-te. To answer me."

The Joker was scrutinizing my face for any signs of trepidation.

He couldn't find any.

Finally, he let go of my body, and climbed off the bed, heading towards the exit.

"I like you Kath-er-rine. I think you'll be a very valuable addition to my team. We could use a gal like you." The Joker said, his back facing me as he walked away.

"Oh," the Joker said when I tried to open my mouth to protest, "And if you even _think_ about refusing me, I think I'll go and visit your wonderful little _bestie_ over in Gotham, and we'll have a nice chat. Capiche?"

The Joker didn't let me answer. He walked outside and slammed the door shut, leaving me alone with about twenty of his goons, a nice comfortable bed to sit on, in a room with no windows.

He didn't tell me what he did with the hostages at the bank.

It was at that moment that I realized that I also hadn't managed to eat lunch today.

The whole reason why I went to the bank in the first place.

I collapsed onto the pillows.

"Fail."

* * *


	2. Jokernapped

**_For all those people who feel the burning need to continue reading this story, here's chapter 2_**

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**CHAPTER 2  


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Roxanne stared at the phone for what seemed like hours, just listening to the dial tone.

At some point, the phone receiver voice told her to politely hang up.

"Shit!" Roxanne yelled, slamming the phone down into the receiver, and violently pulling her hands through her hair.

She collapsed down on the couch in the living room/ dining room of the apartment, her head resting in her hands as she tried to take deep breaths to calm down.

"Fuck it all," She thought angrily, "How dare that sadistic CLOWN kidnap Katherine!" Roxanne began to breathe more heavily as she relived what was probably the worst moment of her life.

She couldn't even begin to fathom what might be happening to Katherine in the Joker's care. Frankly, she felt like she would've been better off not having called Katherine in the first place.

Roxanne looked up from her hands and sighed deeply.

"_No,_" she thought wearily, "_It's better to know this shit now rather than later. At least now I can come up with a plan to do something."_

Roxanne took twenty minutes to consider the most outrageous and far-fetched rescue attempts that she could think of. She anticipated the Joker expecting her to do something to retrieve Katherine, but Roxanne's logic was that the more outrageous the approach, the more likely it will be to succeed with the Joker's methods.

Roxanne looked at her watch and groaned.

It was 3:00 am. Not only had she totally forgotten about the midnight screening of a popular movie that she was supposed to go see with her boyfriend Aleks, but she hadn't called him explaining why she forgot.

_"Not that he'd believe me if I told him,_" she thought bitterly.

Roxanne tried not to think about that right now. At this moment, her mind needed to be preoccupied with hit-and-run rescue plans for Katherine.

Roxanne bit her lip with worry.

"Please be alive."

* * *

I used to be the best sleeper in the world. I've never had a scenario where I've lost sleep over something.

Got a final tomorrow and I didn't study? Don't sweat it.

I need to get up at 6:00 am to pick up family members from the airport and it's already 1:00 in the morning? I'm sure that there's a Carl's Jr that they can all wait in; I'm not panicked.

Are my neighbors undergoing some construction, and the worker guy seems very fond of chainsaws for some reason? Turn on the TV while you're at it, It's all good.

But that night, as I lay on my back on the Joker's bed, resting my head on his unbelievably soft white pillows, underneath his thick, fluffy, I'm-going-to-fall-asleep-immediately, comfortable white sheets, I couldn't even blink my eyes for too long, because they would just shoot right back open.

Sigh. You would think that the reason for my sudden insomnia would be due to the fact that I've been kidnapped by the elusive Joker, world renown for his methods of mental as well as physical torture, and merciless behavior.

But the real reason for my restlessness is due to the fact that I cannot wait until morning. I'm pretty sure that the Joker will return in the morning, and when that happens . . . I can't even imagine what kind of shit will go down.

Mostly due to the fact that my mind is too preoccupied with other matters.

What does he mean he likes me?

What did he mean when he said that I'm going to be a very valuable addition to his team?

Why has he spared my life?

Why is he treating me so nicely?

All these questions were swirling around in my mind, taunting me to no end, and overpowering all thoughts.

I rubbed my hands on my face, urging my eyes to close. I didn't want to wake up looking ragged and sleep deprived. I usually don't look very good in the mornings even when I get my usual 10 hours of sleep.

Roxanne referred to my look as the "Sexy bed-head,"

I rolled my eyes.

As if I can call anything about myself sexy.

Roxanne's words returned to my mind for the second time today.

"Babe, the Joker would take one look at you, and he'd just have to take you on the spot, due to the fact the you're just SO freaking beautiful, that he couldn't help himself,"

I mean, I guess that something similar MIGHT'VE happened today with the Joker, but I'm sure that he had his reasons for kidnapping me. I'm not about to believe that he just miraculously fell in love with me at first sight.

He probably just saw something useful in me that he could exploit to his own benefit.

The tiny voice in my head that always contradicts my opinions of myself spoke up.

"That doesn't mean that he doesn't see you as attractive," It said.

"It sure as fuck doesn't mean that he does see me as attractive," I thought back.

The tiny confident voice in my head quieted for the moment, and I sighed, turning onto my stomach, and burying my head into the pillows.

"Well," I thought, as I heard the soft and not so soft snores of the goons in the room, "I guess I could always begin to count sheep.

I rolled my eyes at my own pathetic demeanor.

1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . .

* * *

I woke up at an unknown time the next day, to the sound of white noise and angry goons arguing ostentatiously about something.

I looked in their direction to see a large group of big goons, gathered around what looked to me like a large-screen television, and I assumed that they were attempting to focus the screen, because from where I sat, the TV just looked like a big gray wall.

Finally, one goon had the audacity to kick the TV in frustration, and in about a second the screen cleared up.

I watched the goon's celebration of success from the corner of my eye. There was something more preoccupying on the news right now.

We were watching the news, and a pretty Asian reporter stood in front of the camera, talking about what went down yesterday.

"The Police believe that the bank heist that occurred yesterday at the GCBA, was caused by terrorist attacks from an unknown culprit. But witnesses have this to say."

The witnesses' face was blurred, and his voice was muffled and edited to sound different.

"It was terrible I tell you! One moment I'm putting a down payment on a new apartment, and the next I'm being tied and gagged and stuffed into a cramped broom closet. He made us play his version of a twisted game of tag,"

The reporter put the microphone back to her face, "Who is he?" she asked him.

The Witness paused and turned to face the camera. It felt like he was looking me right in the eyes even though I couldn't see them.

"The Joker,"

The goons in the room mockingly gasped and broke out into sobs for a minute or two until they all collapsed into chuckles and guffaws.

The female reporter on the screen turned the camera to the ragged remains of the Gotham City Bank of America, barely standing on its foundation.

There was an enormous gaping hole in both the front of the bank, and located in the back of the bank.

The footage we were seeing was that of the scene of the Bank yesterday. The reported couldn't get that close to the bank, so I could only make out that the hostages that were being pulled out of the bank had altered appearances. Some faces were painted to look exactly like the Joker's, and others were shirtless and had "WWJD" in bold colors all over their bodies. \\

For some reason, all of the hostages looked to be in a substantial amount of pain.

I looked away, ashamed that I could've been the one to prevent that. I just can't believe he would randomly choose to seduce me mid-rescue for these people! I mean, I'm pretty sure that there's an appropriate time and place for that kind of stuff, and standing in front of a room of panicked, tied and gagged hostages for a bank robbery wasn't one of them!

There was nothing I could do about this now, and so I turned my attention back to the big screen TV.

"The victims all collectively say that they were at the mercy of 'The Joker,' Medics though, found large amounts of Nitrous Oxide, commonly known to be used with Doctors and Dentists. The quantity found in the victims lungs, though, was enough to disillusion an elephant."

The goons burst out laughing as my mouth dropped open. 'I was in that Bank! I got really dizzy, but I never got THAT high!'

"Reports say that the victims were subjected to vast quantities of time exposed to these gases, the result of which, would leave the victims delirious and incomprehensive. This situation leads the people of Gotham to doubt the accuracy of the victims when they say that they saw 'The Joker,'

The Joker, as we all know, died two years ago at the hand of 'The Batman,' and has not been spotted in the outside world ever since. Has the sadistic 'Joker' returned to Gotham? Are our children safe from murderers and vigilantes? Tune in tonight, I'm Francis Lara, and you're watching HRL5 Gotham news."

The door opened with a slam, and in came the devil himself, carrying sacs of what I could easily guess to be some form of currency.

The Joker looked at me, licked his lips, and grinned widely.

"Well Well!" he began, "If it isn't the infamous Katherine Quinzel! Tell me Kat, what business do you have sleeping on my bed?"

I fumbled immediately to get off, but he stopped me with a hand, "Oh, I don't MIND. No, No, not at all," The Joker looked sly, "Just don't be surprised if you get any, uh, un-wan-ted attentions from a clown wearing lipstick."

I didn't know whether to leave the bed or not anymore.

My legs were falling asleep from being immobile for so long, so in the end, I decided to leave his unbelievably comfortable bed.

The Joker chuckled at my hesitance.

Once my feet hit the floor, the Joker snapped his finger, and all of the goons grabbed at me, trying to take my clothes off.

"Hey! Bitch! What the Fuck you're doing? Hey!" I yelled frantically, for the life of me, holding onto my clothing, doing my best to prevent the goons from stripping me naked.

The Joker took a few steps forward and called the goons off.

I wretched my body away from the last goon's lingering fingers, and looked at the Joker with a question in my eyes.

He laughed.

"Oh wow. That was classic entertainment," he said through giggles, "I thought that you were gonna kick all of them in the family jewels."

"I was about to! What the hell was that?"

The Joker sobered up and put a maniacal smile on his face.

"You're wearing the same clothes that you wore yesterday."

I looked down at myself and sighed, "Yeah, so?"

The Joker licked his lips, "So I thought that you might want a new change of clothes." The Joker pointed to a goon, carrying a blue pinstriped outfit that was protected by a thin layer of plastic.

It looked like something a porn star would wear if she were doing a scene in an office or something. The shirt looked tight, the skirt looked short, and the whole ensemble seemed very conspicuous.

I frowned, "Am I going to a business conference or something?" I asked the Joker, confused.

He laughed out loud once again, "You could say that."

I shook my head, "This is really kind of you Joker, but I really don't think that I can accept a-"

"Who said anything about your choice in the matter little Kitty?" he interrupted with a sickly sweet voice.

His tone went sour, "These clothes are going on you one way or another, and if you decide to be," the Joker licked his lips, "Difficult . . . then I guess I could get BoBo over here to dress you."

The Joker smirked, "BoBo's been VERY lonely for quite some time. I'm sure that he wouldn't mind the task now wouldn't you BoBo?"

BoBo nodded his head vigorously and stared at my chest with a hungry look in his eyes.

I laughed nervously at the appraising look BoBo was giving me, "That's not going to be necessary," I said slowly with a strained smile.

"Good. Now put this on."

He directed me to the back room and gave me the clothes. Inside the room, the floor was covered in unidentifiable filth, and I could've sworn that I heard faint scuffling.

Ten minutes of stuffing my chest into the shirt, and five minutes trying to adjust my skirt so that it actually covers my ass, and I was good to go.

Once I exited the undesirable room, catcalls and whistling filled my ears as I made my way to the Joker, who was still standing beside the bed.

I did a sarcastic little twirl for him. "What do you think?" I asked him.

The Joker stared at my legs for a few extra seconds. Then he looked back up and met my eyes.

"I think I should've kept you on my bed," he replied darkly. I couldn't repress the shivers that wracked my body.

The Joker straitened up his jacket and cleared his throat.

"As . . . fun . . . as playing dress-up has been, it's time to get to business. Now, I'm sure you're wondering, why I gave you these clothes. Well let me tell you Kathy-girl. I need you for my latest scheme. We're going to kidnap Nancy Harbor, the daughter of the Gotham's chief of Police. What we'll do when we get her . . . well . . . I'm sure we can think of something fun. Isn't that right little Kitty?"

"Um, yes?"

"And you, my delicious little Barbie, are going to be our distraction."

* * *

The ride to our destination was anything but placating.

My shirt was WAY too tight, and I kept trying to pull down my skirt and at least make myself to look like a classy hooker.

I blew some hair out of my face, because needless to say it didn't work.

Luckily, this time I was in the back of the van with only the Joker to keep me company. Not that this would be a 'Lucky' situation for any other person on the planet, but given the Joker's track record of not killing me in his presence, I'd say that I'm pretty safe considering.

The Joker grabbed my hand when I went to try and adjust myself once more.

"Katty," He began lowly, "If tugging on your outfit didn't work the last twenty times you tried," The Joker grinned mockingly, "What tells you it'll work now?"

I swallowed hard. I still couldn't get over his constant familiarity with me. I don't think anyone could.

"Uh," I replied oh so eloquently.

"Exactly."

I began to get a little frustrated when I felt the material slipping up my butt again.

"What size is this? Extra small?" I asked, reestablishing my efforts to somehow make the fabric magically longer.

"Yep," The joker said.

"Yep?" I asked incredulously.

"Y-E-P. Yep. A word that is meant to be an agreement. As in, 'Yep, that outfit is extra small.'"

My mouth hung open stupidly, 'I'm surprised I haven't died of suffocation. My body IS NOT a size small.'

I got a thoughtful look on my face, 'Well, actually, Roxanne HAS been forcing me to eat healthily lately-'

The Joker laughed, startling me out of my thoughts. "Katty, baby. Why are you making those faces?"

"Oho ho. No reason," I answered nervously.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

I sighed, "Can you at least tell me WHY I'm dressed like Business Bitch Barbie?" I asked quietly once again, this time hoping that he'd consider providing me with an answer.

The Joker glared at me over his shoulder, and we went back to that uncomfortable silence.

I sighed again, this time in defeat.

Was it too much to ask for a little information? Don't get me wrong, I love trying on clothes that make me look sexy and stuff, but everything about the Joker makes me nervous and changes my views on a lot of subjects.

Like good and bad.

Which reminds me.

"Um, Mister, uh, sir, uh, Joker du-"

"Just call me Joker, Kitty." He replied impatiently, obviously expecting me to ask where we're going or what are we doing; Typical questions that usually ignite terrible reactions from the Joker.

I giggled nervously, "Right, uh, Yeah, Joker. You never did tell me what you did to the hostages at the bank . . ." I told him tentatively.

The Joker turned around quickly with an eager look on his face.

"Do you really wanna know?" The Joker licked his lips, "Because I'm sure you know Katty, baby. I like to get into de-tail when I tell stories."

I bit my lip. "I like stories," I said, as sexily as I could manage.

It came out meek and shaky, and the Joker grinned and shrugged at me. As if to say, 'you were warned.'

The joker licked his lips.

"We all had some fun when you went for a little ride Katty-girl. We played all sorts of fun games, like, dress up!"

The Joker smiled at me, expecting me to react in some way. I just stared at him, and so he huffed in annoyance.

"C'mon Kat-her-ine. You know, Dress Up! And wouldn't you believe it, they all wanted to be me! They said 'ARRGH! AH! ARG!' At least I think they did, and so, I understood that they wanted to be me,"

The Joker looked at me again.

I stared again.

The Joker sighed, "Well obviously Kitty! 'Cause everyone always starts screaming when they see my face you know? So I took this as they wanted to dress up as me!"

I kept starting.

The Joker ostentatiously lost his patience. He threw his hands up in the air and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever Katty. Anyways, I wanted to dress them up, but what do you know? There's not a lot of baby powder in the bank. Now, for obvious reasons, I always keep some baby powder with me at all times, but even I knew that it wasn't enough for seventy-five people, so I took out the large jug of hydrochloric acid, and I mixed it with the baby powder, to try and stretch the powder, so that it would go on all the hostages."

I stopped him with my hand when he tried to continue.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "You just . . . happened to be carrying some hydrochloric acid around with you? Just, lugging it around like a backpack or a baby or something?" I asked incredulously.

The Joker's eyes widened, and he tried to look innocently at me. "Doesn't everybody?

"I sure don't."

"Well maybe you should start, it's really quite useful. Anyways! Now where was I?"

The Joker looked thoughtful for a moment, and then snapped his fingers.

"Oh yes. Mixing it up. Funny thing is, when we put the acid into the powder, and mixed it up, the powder got all slimy and stuff," The Joker grinned at me, "But that didn't stop us at all! And surprisingly, when we put it on the hostages faced, it caked right on!"

The Joker frowned, "But for some weird reason, when we put on that product, the people started screaming even louder. And their faces started to sizzle a little bit. Weird huh?"

"Totally unexpected," I replied, "Who would've thought that the acid would've caused them to scream even louder? Especially with acid's history of being oh so pleasant when in contact with human skin,"

I froze. 'When did I get so bold?' I thought in amazement, I was teasing the Joker! As I squeezed my eyes shut, awaiting the Joker to hit, me, grab me, threaten me, something!

A loud, booming laugh erupted from the Joker's lips, and I lifted one eye open, to see him smirking at me good-naturedly, not at all angry or annoyed with me.

"This," The Joker said, "Is why I like you Kitty-Kat. You're so feisty." He growled seductively.

Here come those pleasant little shivers again.

"Well, after I 'dressed up' most of the hostages, I thought to myself, you know what? Let's switch it up a bit. So for those few lucky little cock-suckers, I got some ink, and mixed it with that convenient jug of acid, and tattooed my name onto their backs, so that they'd know who did that to them, forever."

'Well that explains the footage,' I thought grimly.

The van screeched to a stop, forcing me to fall, and land on top of the Joker, my body lying across his torso, and my boobs right in his face.

I sensed that he was about to lift his head and shove his face into my cleavage, so before he could, I yelped, and quickly scrambled off of him, frantically busing myself by adjusting my clothing once more.

The Joker leaned upwards, eyeing me lazily, and grinning.

"Why'd you move?" He asked, "I was REALLY enjoying the view."

He winked at me, and I blushed for the first time in months.

He looked at me expectantly for the third time today.

I stared back at him.

"Well?"

"Well?"

He chuckled, "Aren't you gonna get on out there? It's time."

The Joker leaned over and unlocked the door to the back of the van, and pushed me outside.

I lost my balance on my heels, once my feet hit the ground, and I turned to face him, panic all over my face.

"Wait! You never told me what you wanted me to do! What's my job?"

The Joker grinned at me wickedly and shrugged.

"Order a sandwich on me."

He shut the doors to the van, and left me standing outside of the most posh, most expensive, most exclusive dining hall in Gotham City.

The Palace Au Versailles.

* * *

I just kinda stood there, staring stupidly at the entrance of the dining hall. Order a sandwich? Was that some type of code for something?

I realized just how ridiculous I looked standing there, gaping like some fish out of water. I know for a fact that if somehow I fail to succeed in whatever my mission is, the Joker WILL NOT be happy. Not one bit. Not at all.

So with great courage and a little bit of curiosity, I stepped through the glass doors into the elegant room.

A large French crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the dining hall, the tables were covered in white cloth, and they were scattered all over the room. Large booths were located at the edges of the room, and famous paintings of the ages and around the world covered almost every inch of space on the wall.

The place was extremely posh and fancy to say in the least, and many people were there, as I assumed that it was around lunchtime.

I marveled at the black marble floors, and red velvet carpeting that lined the walls and floors of the establishment. I might've stood there for a little too long though, because soon, a tall, skinny waiter with dark hair and large, dark eyes seemingly noticed me for the first time, and tapped me on the shoulder, trying to direct my attention to him.

"Excusez-moi Madame," he said in a French accent, "But do you 'ave a reservation?"

Not wanting him to get suspicious, I tried desperately to attain a bit of class.

"Oh yes! I um, I believe I might have, yes, a reservation. Absolutely." I said nervously, taking great care to pronounce my words carefully and make them sound a little more elegant.

The waiter narrowed his eyes and took out a notepad with names scribbled on them.

He cleared his throat. "Um, yes. And, what name eez your reservation under by chance?"

I searched my mind for something clever. Think girl, THINK. What is a nice, common, classy name that I could use?

I thought about using my name for a second, but quickly eliminated that possibility.

I thought of the first name I could think of.

"Jacques?" It unintentionally came out as a question. And the waiter tilted his head in confusion.

He looked at me one more time before he looked down at his notepad, and scrolled down for 'Jacques,'

I held my breath for a few seconds, praying to every God I knew that somewhere in this world, this would work.

The waiter snapped his notepad shut, making me flinch, and he swept his arm towards the tables, gesturing me to follow him.

I blinked. 'Seriously?' I thought, amazed at my luck. I gave a little 'thank you,' to all the Gods I knew, before I turned my attention back to the waiter.

"Right zees way mademoiselle, Jacques," he said.

He began walking to the center of the room, weaving his lithe form through the spaces in between tables, searching for a place for me.

Unlike him though, I didn't manage to get through as easily or painlessly. I had to apologize many, many times for knocking over and tripping on chairs in my haste to catch up with the waiter. The fact that I as well as everyone else in the establishment knew that I didn't belong didn't help my lack of grace or propriety.

Finally we reached my table, which was located toward the back of the room, giving me a full view of the restaurant and all the people in it.

The waiter pulled out my seat for me, and introduced himself as Willem, before quickly extracting himself from my presence, obviously embarrassed by my behavior.

I sighed deeply and absorbed my surroundings. Nobody paid very much attention to me, all of them wrapped up in their own conversations to pay any notice to me. I saw a few men staring at me when I tripped though. That might count for something.

Not knowing what else to do, I picked up the menu on the table and looked at it.

Whoa.

The prices for food were ridiculous! Half of the stuff I couldn't even begin to pronounce! 'A small cup of soup for fifteen dollars?'

I tried to look for the most inexpensive thing on the menu, knowing that I didn't have much on me.

I stopped.

I didn't have ANYTHING on me. I had no money whatsoever. How was I supposed to pay for any of this?

I was too busy fretting over the concept of me paying the bill with no money to notice a very well dressed man pull up a chair at my table.

He cleared his throat surprising me, slowly, my eyes processed his presence before me.

He studied my face with great interest not blinking or moving in the slightest. The fact that this man had the audacity to just sit down at my table and stare at me, not saying ONE WORD, just analyzing my features put me at unease.

I had to break the silence.

I swallowed, "Uh, can I help you?"

The man raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, still studying me. I took a second to stare right back at him, studying his features myself.

He was a rather good-looking man, short blonde hair, gelled back against his scalp in a boyish fashion, square jaw, full pink lips, light green eyes and dark, arched eyebrows. I could tell that he had a nice body under his suit.

'Not bad,' I thought considering, 'So not my type though,'

"How old are you?" He asked me suddenly, his voice silky and rich.

I didn't know whether or not to answer him at that moment, but he seemed pretty harmless, so I humored him.

"Twenty-three."

"Hmmm . . ." He responded. I have no idea whether that was a bad thing or a good thing. He didn't say anything else, he just kept on staring, and I started to get a little annoyed.

I sighed exasperatedly, "Not that I don't enjoy being observed by random strangers," I began sarcastically, "But was there some sort of purpose behind coming here? I don't really believe that you just wanted to know my age."

"How much do you charge?"

I looked at him, and at first, his words didn't register in my brain.

"Excuse me?" I asked him, offended as comprehension began to dawn on me.

"How much do you charge? I really don't have all day," He said lazily. He looked down at his fingernails and raised an eyebrow. "Really. It's almost as if you're surprised."

"I am surprised!" I responded angrily, "I am not a prostitute!"

The whole room quieted and heads swiveled around to face us. My face was burning with embarrassment as I tried to ignore the fact that everyone in the room heard me.

"I'm not a prostitute," I repeated much more quietly.

The man frowned at me.

He gestured to my clothing, "Well of course you are! You're my 2:00 P.M! I got a note from your manager to meet you here. He described to me exactly what you were dressed in so that I would find you." He explained.

I opened my mouth, preparing to contradict his story, when I stopped.

'Maybe this is what I'm supposed to do,' I thought.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Does the phrase, 'Order a sandwich on me,' mean anything to you?" I asked him.

His face lit up for a moment, and then twisted into a sly grin.

"Oh," He answered seductively, "You're THAT type."

I pulled back from him slightly, confusion evident in my features. "Wait, what?"

"Do you want me to buy you lunch first, or shall we go?" he asked me with anticipation.

I stuttered a bit before answering him, "Uh, I-I um, let's have lunch first." I couldn't wrap my mind around the situation.

I cannot believe that the first time I actually get to eat in the most popular, most expensive restaurant in the city, I have to act as a prostitute for a man I don't even know. I mentally sighed dramatically.

We ordered lunch, he wanted duck, and I tried the shrimp sushi, and afterwards, he paid the bill and offered his arm to me.

"Ready?" He asked with a smirk.

I was at a loss at what to do, I wracked my brain for options, but I didn't come up with any. Finally I decided 'Fuck it,' and took his arm as he led outside the restaurant, the valet holding out a pair of keys belonging to a silver Bentley.

I looked around before entering the car, hoping to see some sort of sign from the Joker, that I was doing the right thing, and not getting into a vehicle with an attractive stranger, but saw none.

Gathering up my courage, entered the car on the passenger side, and he pulled out of the lot, driving out of town.

I looked out the window and bit the inside of my lip nervously.

'God, I really I hope I'm not wrong about this,'

* * *

"Ok, wait. Just . . . just wait a sec," Roxanne's boyfriend, Aleks, began with a frown, "You're trying to tell me, that you think Kathy's been kidnapped by The Joker? THE Joker? As in, the same Joker that's been dead for two years? That one?"

They were at Aleks's flat on the fifteenth floor of a very modern, very sleek apartment building located in the hustle and bustle of downtown Gotham.

Roxanne sighed and rubbed her temples. She was currently sitting down on one of his rectangular shaped black leather couches. "Yes. And I don't think that she's been kidnapped by the Joker," she muttered, Aleks looked a little relieved.

"I KNOW that she's been kidnapped by the Joker,"

He looked at her curiously, and then burst out laughing, "Oh, Roxy, that was a good one," He sobered up quickly, "Alright now seriously, tell me the real reason why I'm here."

Roxanne looked at him, her expression unwavering. Slowly, his grin died on his face as the realization set in.

His eyes widened, and he tried to form words to create a competent sentence, but was failing miserably.

Roxanne stood up, threw her hands up in the air, and growled in frustration simultaneously, "I know right? Of all the dumb-shit that could happen to Katherine, kidnapped by THE JOKER? I mean really! C'mon now girl." Roxanne started pacing, and forgot about her boyfriend's presence in the room, while appearing to be talking to an invisible Katherine directly.

"If only we could bottle your luck, girl. We'd have a weapon of mass destruction in our hands! But seriously! The fucking Joker! Who's been dead! For years! I don't understand!" She began her full on rant now, complete with the flailing arms and red face.

Aleks walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around, and forcing her to acknowledge him.

He looked into her eyes for a moment, "Roxy," he said quietly, "Is she alive?"

Roxanne looked back at him for a moment, and then looked down.

"I don't know," she replied almost inaudibly, "I just . . . don't know. She could be lying facedown in ditch somewhere or something horrible like that. I just. Don't. Know," Her voice broke off in a loud sob as she covered her face with her hands, refusing to cry in front of him.

He pulled her into a hug for a moment, and held her there until she pulled away from him.

Roxanne wiped her eyes with the back of her arm, trying her hardest to be strong and look confident.

"I don't think she's dead," She said with conviction, "I spoke to her at one point, and she was in the Joker's company. He didn't kill her then . . ."

Roxanne's voice trailed off, and she knew that they were both thinking the same thing. He didn't kill her then, but he could kill her at anytime.

Roxanne's head snapped up and she clapped her hands together in an attempt to change the subject.

She put her hands on her hips. "Well," She began, all trace of sadness gone from her voice, "I'm gonna just sit here and twiddle my thumbs while the Joker does who-knows-what to Katherine." She stated confidently.

"I've got a plan and I need your help."

Aleks brightened up. "Am I going to like, kick someone's ass or something like that?"

"No," Roxanne replied, grinning.

"Am I going to break into The Joker's hiding place and distract him while you steal her away?"

"No,"

"Am I gonna be your technical in a van, helping you with cameras and mini phones and what-not?"

"God no!" Roxanne said shaking her head in amusement, "We're not secret agents or something! This isn't Mission impossible, babe!" Roxanne laughed a little before sobering up.

"No, I need an artist for this plan," Roxanne said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. She turned to him and grinned.

"And you're just the guy."

* * *

I fell asleep in his car after the first three hours. I had no idea where we were going, no escape plan whatsoever, and absolutely, no possibility of calling for help.

If this whole thing didn't work out the way I'm hoping it would, then I would be in some serious trouble. During the time I was conscious, I tried to think of the bright side to my current predicament, something I've taken up recently due to the events over the stretch of the past two days.

"Number One: I'd get laid," That's for sure. I chuckled a bit little bit, and then frowned. But what if he has diseases? I shuddered.

"Number Two: He's not too hard to look at," Ok, I'll give him that one.

"Number Three:?" I sighed. That's it huh?

I think that that's around the time when I fell asleep. Time passed, and when I woke up, I found myself on another very large bed, on top of velvety black silk sheets with golden stitching, surrounded by an array of matching pillows of varying shapes and sizes. The room was vast. The walls were cream colored, potted plants lining the corners of the room. Thousands of candles were lit around the bed, and there were two doors. The one facing me were double doors with golden handles, and the other one was located at my right, and was considerably smaller in width. Finally at the foot of the bed, was an HD flat screen TV that was currently showing the image of fire in a fireplace.

I took a moment to assure myself that I was not, in fact, dreaming.

"Wow," I said in awe, my eyes taking in every detail of the room slowly, savoring it.

'Oh Roxanne,' I thought fondly, 'Why aren't you here with me right now? Why am I always alone at times like these?'

In a way this was incredibly romantic. I wondered if he would set up this scene for every one of his . . . uh . . . appointments.

I jumped when I felt something vibrate against my chest. Baffled, I tried searching my bra for a clue as to what might be the cause of this disturbance. Last time I checked, my boobs didn't vibrate. At least I don't think.

Finally, I came across something that felt like a little pebble in a tiny pocket on the left side of my bra.

Tentatively, I picked up the little device, analyzing it for a second. I thought I saw a miniscule speaker on the thing, so I put it in my ear, and listened.

"KIT KAT! Ay! You're just in time for the party!" I shrieked and threw the device down onto the bed. I was panting, staring at the little device with wide eyes.

'Was that the Joker's voice?'

I inched my hand towards the pebble-sized speaker, and picked it up again. Slowly, I brought it up to my ear.

"Well that was rude! Warn a guy before you go yelling your head off like that." I pulled the little speaker away from my face and studied it, disbelief written on my face.

"You-You-You, you hid a speaker in my BRA? How the hell did you manage that?" I asked, incredulous.

"Oh Kitty. Do you really need to ask? I AM the Joker for chrissake," I heard the Joker lick his lips, "Okay Katty, good job on finding our guy. Now, listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you. Because if you mess this up, you're gonna die."

Oh, okay, no pressure of course.

"So, I'm sure you've gotten to know our little friend Marcus Herrington, right?" I opened my mouth to say not really, but he didn't let me respond. "Good. Little Marcus has been a really naughty boy, and he's angered a lot of scary men." The Joker said, taking a pause to laugh hysterically.

"I was thinking of doing a little bargaining, you know? Cause, well, the Marc Man just happens to be the nephew of the mayor of Gotham city. And the mayor just happens to have access to some Uranium. And guess what? I just happen to be out of the stuff." The Joker chuckled darkly.

"But that's not the good part. The good part, is that the guy who wants to kill ole Marcus? Yeah, he just happens to be the Italian mafia boss in Gotham, Billy Torricelli. Wait, and guess what else?" The Joker paused for a second, "Billy Torricelli is also in possession of Uranium!"

The Joker giggled gleefully. "Have you caught on yet little Kat?" he asked me, sounding excited.

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off again. "The highest bidder wins the prize!" The Joker laughed, "Whoever gives me the most money and Uranium will get to keep Mr. Herrington, and whatever they choose to do with him is their problem."

The Joker kept on laughing, as my mind processed the situation.

I couldn't help but feel bad for Marcus, even though he picks up prostitutes and he apparently dabbles in places he doesn't belong. Nobody deserves to be on the Joker's bad side.

For the life of me I couldn't figure out where I come in for this scheme.

"Uh, Joker," I asked cautiously, trying not to anger him.

The Joker stopped laughing abruptly. His voice went dark and smooth.

"What can I do for you my little Kitty Kat?" He purred.

I lost my trail of thought for a few moments as I tried to recover from all those hormones coursing through my body all at once.

Finally, I regained control.

I cleared my throat, "Right, yeah, uh, Joker? Not that I uh . . . care or anything, but like . . . what is my job exactly?" I asked him, my voice quieting with every word.

I heard slurping sounds. "Oh. Right, your job," The Joker sighed, and sounded slightly annoyed for some reason.

"Let me tell you then."

"You, my delectable little crumpet, are going to seduce poor ole Marcus, and when you have him right where you want him, BAM!" The joker yelled suddenly, slamming his hands on something, making me flinch, "You hit him with a blunt object and wait until we get there to pick you up."

I waited. He said nothing else.

"That's it?" I asked, in something close to disbelief.

The Joker didn't say anything for a minute, "I'm afraid you've . . . uh . . . lost me," he laughed for a moment, and then suddenly stopped. "Care to ex-plain?"

"There's no explosion? No grenades flying through the window? No cackling laugh before the lights go out and another bag goes over my head?" I found it hard to believe that any plan of the Joker's could be so simple and un-elaborate. I was still waiting for the catch.

The Joker began laughing in earnest now.

"Wow Katty, I had no idea that you were such a fan. This isn't Cirque du Solei, Kit. You can't expect me to put on a performance and set up some fireworks every time I wanna do something wicked," The Joker laughed even louder, "Tell you what though. Next time, I'll do something three times as, uh, com-pli-ca-ted, and e-la-bor-ate. Fair?"

I was at a loss for words. Somehow, I got the feeling that he hadn't really thought to hard about this particular plan of his.

"Well," I tried to think of something, "Well what if there's no blunt object for me to knock him out with? How an I going to get away from the creep?" I asked quickly. I don't really know why I was stalling, or what I would get out of continuing my conversation with the Joker, but I was doing it, so I guess I have some kind of reason.

The Joker paused for a moment, "Hmmm," he hummed, apparently in deep thought.

"Well then," he said finally, "I guess that you're just gonna have to fuck him, and wait for him to fall asleep or something. I'm sure by then we'll have arrived. Who knows," he said, his voice getting deeper, "We might just get a good show . . ."

My mouth dropped open. 'Sleep with this guy?' I thought frantically, 'But-But-I mean, I don't even know him!'

I backtracked quickly, "Wait, wait, wait, wait," I said, "Are you really expecting me to sleep with this guy?" I asked, panic evident in my voice.

The Joker huffed, seemingly annoyed, "No silly! I don't expect you to sleep with the monkey turd! I expect you to get him all hot and bothered, and then hit him on the head with something; preferably something hard, and knock him unconscious!" The Joker said this like all he was asking of me was absolutely no big deal.

"Oh wow, well then, if that's all!" I said sarcastically, my voice rising a pitch higher than necessary.

The Joker found this highly amusing. He laughed loudly for a few moments before sobering.

"Oh Kat, you really get me, you know that?" The joker chuckled a bit, "It's not like I'm asking you to kill him or anything! Just knock him out! Jeez, that or sleep with the guy. As long as you distract him so that he's too preoccupied to . . . oh I don't know . . . call the police for example, I'll be just dandy."

Before I respond to the audacity of him asking something like this from me, he quickly cut off all my protests.

"You know what I noticed Kit-Kat?" He began casually, "You seem to be thoroughly repulsed by any forms of touching by the male species. Could you perhaps by any chance be a, uh, ho-mo-sex-ual?" He asked me, and I could feel his grim from the phone.

I felt my face get hot as his words registered in my brain. I didn't know how to respond, because he was partially right, I DO shy away from most male contact. But I'm not gay . . .

'Do I really act repulsed by the idea of touching guys?' I thought, considering for a moment.

'I wouldn't mind if the Joker decided to touch me . . .' I thought before I could stop it, even though I knew deep down that it was true.

The Joker snickered on the other side of the receiver. "That's an awful long pause Kitty? Or should I call you Pussy?" The Joker burst out into some dark chuckles as I tried my best not to let his words affect me.

"I'm not gay," Was my final response to his taunts.

The Joker regained his composure, "Oh really Kat? Well then, I'm sure that that's a story you're gonna tell me some other time. Now I'm gonna go, and leave you to your antics. I'll be there sometime, so make sure to make yourself comfy. Tootles!" He said in a falsetto voice.

The line went dead.

I just stared at it, and then smiled. How can you not love a guy who ends a conversation with 'Tootles'?

I shook my head and grinned, and I made a move to put the tiny device back in my bra.

"Oh. You're awake." Rumbled a deep voice with a hint of an English accent that I hadn't noticed before.

I jumped, accidentally flinging the little speaker away from me, and into the deep abyss of the white carpet somewhere to my right.

I decided against going for it, and chose instead to stare at the shirtless, dripping wet towel-clad man standing in front of me.

He grinned cockily at my gaping expression. Shamelessly I stared at his nakedness, Admiring his tan body, and his finely sculpted abs.

'I was right,' I thought while ogling at his shapely legs, 'Underneath all those expensive suits and ties, there's a hot body,'

For a moment I seriously considered just saying 'Fuck it,' And get laid for the first time in a LONG time.

I mean, I wasn't a virgin or anything, but my first was a terrible lover. All awkward and lacking. So maybe this guy wouldn't be as bad. And I'm sure it couldn't hurt too much. But the tiny logical voice in my head (that just happens to sound exactly like Roxanne), that I almost never listen to, decided to speak up.

'That's not a good idea Katherine,' it said. I mentally sighed.

'When is it ever a good idea?" I thought back, frustrated.

I was about to ignore the voice once again and throw all caution to the wind, when it said something that stopped me.

'He's not the Joker Katherine,'

'What?'

'He's not the Joker. The Joker's who you want isn't it? You and I both know that this guys pales in comparison to who you really want.' It said smugly, knowing that for once in a long time, it's actually won the argument.

The lust-filled smile that was on my face faded, as I realized that the voice was right. He's not what I want. He's not the real thing.

'Dammit Voice!' I thought angrily, 'Why'd you have to go and ruin my fun? God, you're horrible,'

I could see Marcus beginning to look impatient with my silence, and soon he cleared his throat.

"Well," he began with a charming smile, "Shall we?"

I looked up at the ceiling and sent a quick prayer to all the deities I know. Conspicuously, I looked around for any lamps or something similar, before I faced him again.

"We Shall." I whispered.

He crept towards me like a lion stalking its prey. Heat flashed in his eyes, and a smirk crawled across his face.

I took the time to admire his sculpted physique as he kept approaching me, still undecided on the matter of letting him have merry little way with me, or knocking him the fuck out.

'I gotta admit though,' I thought warily, my eyes stuck on him, 'The man's not making this easy,'

I didn't notice his close proximity until he leaped onto the bed and moved even closer. I could feel his warm skin, fresh out of the shower, on my bare legs and thighs.

He never broke his gaze, even when he trailed his fingers up my thighs to the hem of my skirt, slowly lifting it out of the way.

He kissed me.

So rough and passionately that it made my head spin. I felt everything all at once. Lust, passion, heat, anticipation, giddiness, you name it. My thoughts became erratic.

I knew that there was something that I was forgetting, and that annoying little voice kept bothering me. This time though, I was able to block it out fully, as I surrendered to the soft caresses made by this handsome man above me.

I kissed him back with everything I had. Every frustration, every insecurity, every passion, and things really began to get heated.

He slipped his tongue into my mouth and explored my every crevice. He nibbled, licked, sucked, groaned, hummed, and all of it felt AMAZING. I sighed in happiness as he trailed his kisses down to my neck; my body overcome with all the pleasurable feelings.

He quickly found my pulse point and sucked on it HARD. I couldn't restrain the little cry that came from my mouth, even when I felt him smile against me.

Trying my hardest not to be to mortify at my behavior, I almost gave myself up right then and there when he reached a hand into my hair and began massaging my scalp.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation.

Tentatively, I reached my own hand up, and tried to run it through his long, curly green locks-

My eyes shot wide open. The hair wasn't long and curly; it was short and gelled back. Frantically, I grabbed his hair harder, and he groaned against my neck.

"Keep doing that my little sex Kitten," he purred.

It was all wrong coming out of his mouth. It was at that moment that I realized my situation. He wasn't the Joker, and I didn't want him.

Who was this guy who had the nerve to make me feel this way, disillusioning me so that I believe him to be the Joker.

My body surged with an anger that I didn't know I carried as my eyes deftly scanned the room for something I could use to . . . handicap him.

Unfortunately, I only saw a small modern lamp located at the side of the bed. Without even a hint of hesitation, I reached over, grabbed the neck of the lamp, and slammed the glass base of it on the back of his head.

He made a surprised 'Bluh!" sound when it made contact before he collapsed on top of me, unmoving.

I lain under him for a few moments, and I stared in shock at the hand that may or may not be responsible for murder.

'Murder . . . Oh God,'

I shoved his body off of me and jumped off the bed. There was a little blood trickling down his neck, and when I saw this, I felt like I had swallowed a lead weight. It was getting hard to breathe. I had to instruct myself on how to do it.

Inhale, Exhale, Inhale, Exhale, Inhale.

I calmed down after a few moments, and after settling some mental turmoil, I scrutinized the body for any signs of life.

I nearly collapsed to the floor with relief when I saw his back moving up and down with every breath.

'Ok Katherine,' I thought happily, 'you finally did something right.'

My legs gave out from underneath me. There's only so much a girl can be subjected to in a day! Never again will I be seduced right before I commit a felony. All those feelings are too tough on my poor little heart.

I don't know how long I sat there, but I almost didn't hear the locks tumbling on the main doors.

The Joker spotted me as four of his burliest goons handled Marcus. He stepped towards me and I didn't look up at his face as he stood two inches away from me. I just stared at the purple fibers on his pants.

He waited a second before he squatted my eye level, grabbing my chin and tilting it up to his face.

I looked into his pitch black eyes, and he stared into my hazel ones. The Joker then took on a mock sympathetic look in his eyes.

He shook his head, "Wow. He must've been terrible in the sac,"

I burst out laughing. I laughed that unrefined, unfeminine laugh, complete with the gaping mouth and the squinted eyes. I laughed so hard that it hurt.

'He always says the worst possible things at the worst possible times,' I thought through my chuckles. 'And somehow, it never fails to make me smile,'

I sobered up after a few minutes and found that the goons had finished binding the hostage, and we were ready to leave.

The Joker grinned down at me and offered his hand. I took it, quietly thanked him, and turned away before he could see me blush.

I rolled my eyes, I can restrain myself when someone is in the process of seducing me, but just an offer of assistance from the Joker can somehow morph me into a tomato. I've got it bad.

The Joker slapped his hand on my back hard, and I winced from the pain. He kept it there though, and led me out the door.

"Now, Kit, I'd bet money that you have a great story to tell me on how you fulfilled your duties today," The Joker licked his lips, "I'd love to hear all. About. It."

I got a distant look on my face, and smiled at everything I've done today.

I turned to face the Joker, and gave him my best evil grin before I responded.

"Well," I said, still grinning, "It's kinda a funny story,"

The Joker laughed.

* * *

**Next chapter=sometime next week guys! **

**Review!**

**~SongsThatSerenade7**


	3. The Formalities

**_Hey guys, here's Chapter 3 of An Unlikely encounter! Enjoy!_**

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**CHAPTER 3**

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The next few days went surprisingly smoothly. Apparently, I made friends among the goons, and being constantly subjected to the presence of the Joker can has raised my spirits considerably.

I'd been away from Roxanne, and home for almost a week, and I really miss the girl. At one point I tried asking the Joker if I could talk to her, but he rejected my request with a crazy smile, some lip moistening, and a change of subject.

But I must say, I'm enjoying my time with the Joker (no that I'd ever doubted that I would). He's definitely just as evil as everyone thought him to be. I don't know what he did with Marcus Herrington, but every once in a while, I hear the Joker's slurred speech, and barely muffled screaming, coming from somewhere.

The only thing that truly disconcerts me is the fact that I still have absolutely no idea where I am.

After we left Marcus' little villa outside of Gotham, we were about to enter the car, when, instead of having an enormous black bag envelope my head, I felt a pinch in my arm, and promptly fell unconscious.

So here I am, once again in the same cream-colored room. Same brown, hardwood floor, and, of course, the same gigantic fluffy white bed.

I've been in this room for a few days now, having my food catered to me by some random goon, being chatted up by the random henchmen who happen to wander by my door. Only getting up to go to the bathroom, or stretch my legs, or do some of the aerobic exercises that Roxanne taught me in order to stay in shape.

Today though, surprisingly, no one's walked by my door, or stopped to talk to me, and as a result, I was dying of boredom.

I just sat there watching a TV show I knew absolutely nothing about. There was absolutely NOTHING to do.

I became drowsy as I just lay on the Joker's bed; apparently my brain just shuts down when I spent long periods of time not doing anything productive.

I fell asleep at some point on top of the covers of the bed, so my body turned a bit when for some reason the other side of the bed dipped.

My eyes fluttered open slowly, awakened by the unexpected disturbance, but they quickly shut again, when the entire length of my back was enveloped warmth.

Without any hesitation, I snuggled back into the warmth and fell into a light sleep.

I was woken up in what felt like only a few minutes later, when I heard a light chuckle sound from behind me.

Curious, and still a little drunk off of sleep, I turned my head and pried one eye open slowly.

The face of the Joker infiltrated my vision.

Surprised, I jumped away from him in shock, yelping, though my body immediately missed the warmth that emanated from him.

I just stared at him for a few seconds. He wasn't wearing his purple jacket. He wore his green shirt and vest, as well as his purple pants. His face looked different though. The usual clown make-up he usually wears was smeared across his face, and looked redder- like he'd just put it on or something.

He'd been staring at me while I absorbed his presence with an amused look in his eye.

He tilted his head, and broke out into a sly smile.

"Well, uh, hell-lo to you too, Katty," The Joker erupted into loud fits of laughter as he flipped onto his back clutching his stomach and his eyes squeezed shut.

I took some deep breaths, putting my hand on my heart, and squeezing my eyes shut, trying to calm myself down.

"Joker," I breathed, "Please. Just . . . stop sneaking up on me at my most vulnerable. I mean, at least wait until I'm fully _conscious_ to scare the shit out of me!"

I looked over at him, and he turned his head to face me, raising an eyebrow.

He quirked a smile at me. "Why, what_ever_ do you mean Kitty? I just decided to enter my room, which you just happened to be in. And uh, the fact that you were, uh, sleep-ing is entirely none of my concern," The Joker licked his lips, and his smile got darker.

"Besides. I like it when you scream,"

My face blushed brightly, and I turned my face away from him.

'_Why does he always have to do that to me,' _I thought irritatingly, '_Just for once I'd like to keep my composure around him!'_

"Aww, c'mon Kit-Kat, don't be that way, I'm just _joking_,"

I turned back to look at him, and he still had that smug look on his face that for some reason unnerved me to no end.

I couldn't come up with any clever retort that wouldn't end me up at the bottom of Gotham City Bay with cinderblocks tied to my feet, so I just settled for rolling my eyes at him and giving him my best bitch look.

He wasn't fazed.

Suddenly, as if just remembering something important, The Joker clapped his hands together and shifted his entire body to face me.

"Katty, babe, I think you're gonna like this," He began with a wicked grin.

'_Oh Jesus,'_ I thought, exasperatedly.

"I need you, and your appeal to help me with another part of my plan. Now see, what you're gonna do is-"

"Why?" I interrupted.

He seemed shocked for a few moments, as if no one had ever dared disrupt him before. He blinked at me, his face twisted up into a frown, and he shook his head, his eyes squinted shut, and he cupped his right ear with his right hand mockingly.

"Wow, uh, I'm sorry Kath-er-ine. But, uh, can you repeat that? I seemed to have missed that," He said, his voice thick with an underlying tone of anger.

"Why?" I asked, "Why do you need _me_ of all people to help you?"

The Joker looked at me as if I had just became mentally handicapped. He forced a chuckle, and looked around, licking his lips.

He wiped his lips with the back of his hands.

"You know, funny thing. There aren't any other pussies in this complex, Kat. What? You want me to just dress up one of my goons in a _dress_? Maybe add in some _earrings_ and _high heels_ while I'm at it?" The Joker gave me an angry look, as if I was wasting his time by asking him stupid questions.

I shook my head at him. "What I meant to say was, 'Why do you use _me,_ when there are so many other _prettier_ girls that you could kidnap and force to do your bidding?'" I scrutinized his face for the answer.

He looked blank. His eyes betrayed no emotion for a few minutes. He stared at me, seemingly uncomprehending, when suddenly, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and he erupted into an incredibly booming laugh.

His teeth were showing, and his body was trembling with his mirth.

There was nothing false about this laugh. It didn't send shivers down my spine, it didn't make me feel like I was an idiot, and it didn't cause me to fear for my life. All I felt was deeply rooted confusion and surprise.

"Oh little Kitty," He managed to say through giggles, "You are so dumb."

"Excuse me?" I spluttered.

His laughed died down a bit, and when he felt that he was capable of speech again, he looked me in the eye, and sighed.

"Lemme ask you this. Why do you think I took you that day in the bank? Why do you think I spared you from all that misery, all that pain, all that terror, yadda yadda yadda?" He squinted at me with a small smile on his face, and sat himself up, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

I realized that I had never gone into deep thought about his question. I guess I'd always assumed that he'd done it just because. I never asked myself if he's ever actually had a _reason_ for doing it.

"Hmm, that's what I thought." He straitened his back and cracked his knuckles.

He rolled his head around to loosen up his neck, and went into deep thought. "Now where was I? Oh yes. Your part in the plan. Now here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna-"

"That's it?" I almost shrieked; I had so many questions for him now! I wasn't just about to let him _change the fucking subject_ when I was so close to actually getting any insight into the Joker's true character!

The Joker took on a dangerous look as he scowled at me. "Katty, I wouldn't make a habit of pissing me off if I were you."

I disregarded his words. "You can't just start to say something and then ignore it completely! You have to finish what you were about to say! You need to-"

I didn't hear the sharp click of the blade shooting out of the handle until the cold blade was pressed against my neck.

My back was facing the Joker, and he had one arm wrapped around my body, and the other holding the knife to my jugular. My breathing became erratic and I closed my eyes out of fear. The Joker put his face into the back of my neck, stuck out his tongue and licked up the length of my neck to my ear, growling while doing so.

"You are on ve-ry _thin_ ice little kitty. Let's be sure not to make. It. Crack." I felt his hot breath against my neck, and a pool of warmth began to grow somewhere in my stomach, my body reacting to his ministrations.

I could feel every inch of his body pressing against my back. My body basked in his incredibly warmth, almost heat, and the trail of saliva he left on my neck sent sparks of electricity up and down my spine.

"I'm not a nice person, Katty," He growled in my ear, "I could slit you're throat and have you bleed dry. I could strangle you to death. Hell, I could lock you up in this room and leave you to _starve_ and don't you forget it."

His words were hard and his voice low, everything he said came out as a seductive purr, and it took all my willpower not to turn my face and kiss him. It'd be so easy . . . all I'd have to do was twist my body a little and-

He released me abruptly, shoving me hard onto the bed, and slide off of it. I looked back at him to see that he was staring at me, a crazed look in his impossibly dark eyes. He seemed to be panting slightly as his chest rose up and down quickly.

It seemed as if he were having an internal conflict of some sort, but apparently he made up his mind when he set off to walk to the door.

He paused for a minute before he grabbed that doorknob, and his head turned towards me ever so slightly.

"I put your outfit on the floor," He said, his voice raw, as if he'd rubbed it with sandpaper.

"Be ready in an hour," Was all he said before he shut the door with a slam.

* * *

It's not fair. It's not fair that he has the ability to just waltz on in here at my most vulnerable, touch me, get me all riled up and then just leave. Like nothing even happened. It doesn't even matter that I'm currently residing in his room. Some people have a _right_ to privacy!

I sighed angrily and snatched up the outfit from the floor. Not taking a second to look at it, I immediately stripped off my clothing and shoved on the . . . dress?

I finished getting dressed in record time—I still had no idea as to whether the Joker had put some cameras in here—Picked up my small black heels, and casually stormed out the door, as if I were trying to appear as if I wasn't angry, but I'm pretty sure that it was clearly evident.

I wasn't quite 100% as to where exactly I was headed though.

I snorted. Like that's ever stopped me.

I didn't have to go very far though. After a few long strides, I entered a room that seemed to be occupied by everyone, including Mr. I'm—gonna—Seduce—you—and—leave—again.

I tried to avoid eye contact with him, and I took the only open seat at the center of the room, subjected to the stares of every clown and goon in the place.

I waited for someone to speak up. Maybe tell me my job in the Joker's new plan. Or the reason for my presence in this room, but they all just seemed to be staring at me, distracted by something.

I disregarded their stares for a moment, to take the time to look around the unfamiliar place. I'd never seen anything of my kidnapping hideout other than the Joker's room. My eyes trailed over the scene.

The room had white-carpet floors, and the walls were painted a pale, sort of cloudy green color—there was nothing on the walls. The Goons were all sitting in various modern-looking chairs and couches, all black, except for the Joker, who was standing.

I was sitting in an out-of-place wooden chair. For some reason, it felt a little too small and a little too short. My butt barely fit on it, and I felt like some sort of giant sitting in a little kid's chair.

The thick silence was beginning to take its toll on my attempted cool composure. I began to fidget uncomfortably under all the stares, and I looked around anywhere to avoid everyone's eyes.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I was suddenly such an amazing image. No one had said anything for almost five minutes!

I looked behind me, puzzled. Maybe there was some sort of fire juggling knife-swallower behind me. The action of turning around caused me to brush my arm against the fabric of the dress I was wearing.

I looked down at my dress for a second and then looked away.

And then I looked back again quickly, my eyes open wide, and my mouth hanging slightly open for intense shock and increasing mortification.

I was wearing a one-shouldered deep velvety red dress, with a neckline so low, that it exposed my stomach. My boobs looked like they were going to freaking pop out at any moment, and it was at that time, that I realized that the dress was tight, and felt like I was trapped inside an elastic band. I could breathe just fine because the dress stretched to the curves of my body, and I wasn't suffocating, because the material was thin.

And short. WAY too short. I could now see what the Joker and all the goons were staring at. If I open my legs, even the slightest bit more, I'm sure that they'll all get a nice shot of my nether regions. I carefully crossed my legs, taking care not to widen them.

The eyes of the Joker and the goons followed my right leg as it crossed over my left. It was almost as if they were all in a trance. I was now painfully uncomfortable with all the stares.

Drunk off of my own embarrassment, I stupidly asked the Joker the first question that came to mind.

"Am I a prostitute?"

The Joker's eyes snapped up, and met mine. I have never seen such an intense look of want. The look that he had for me was primitive—based almost entirely out of desire and lust and frustration. He looked as if he wanted nothing more but to run over to me, throw me over his shoulder, and take me to his bedroom, to fuck me senseless.

In fact, I don't think he would've waited to be in the bedroom to do it.

My thoughts brought a familiar and uncomfortable warmth that began low in my stomach, and then stretched throughout my body. He continued to look at me this way, and I couldn't break his stare. His dark eyes were hypnotic under all that dark make-up, and my mind felt like it was melting with arousal.

One of the goons hiccupped.

It was such a foreign sound in all the silence, that it broke the spell between the Joker and I, and I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

It looked as if everyone were waking up from a dream. They all began to move, and some even stretched.

The Joker rubbed his eyelid with his fingers and tilted his head up at the ceiling, as if he were praying to some deity.

He looked back down, and licked his lips while rolling his eyes ostentatiously.

He took a deep breath, "Well . . ." He dragged out the words languidly, "Now that we've all uh, _seen_ Ms. Quinzel, lets all take a second to calm down our. Raging. Hard-ons." The Joker grinned at me.

My face burned up with embarrassment as the weight of his words sunk in. Some goons actually stood up and walked away from the scene. I tried not to be too obvious about my incredulous stare when I caught a glimpse of the straining bulges in their pants.

It took all of my willpower not to think about the possibility of seeing the Joker's 'raging hard-on', and it helped that he just happened to be standing in behind one of the couches located directly in front of me.

He wasn't moving, but he had the lower half of his body pressed tightly to the back of the couch. I cleared my throat in an attempt to change the subject off of boners, and looked at the Joker pointedly, hoping that he would get the hint.

The Joker raised an eyebrow and analyzed my expression with an amused grin on his face. He chuckled silently and clapped his hands together, directing all attention to him.

"Now, you all might be wondering 'Gee boss, who is this hot-ass fucking girl sitting in the middle of the room? God she looks so fucking _EDIBLE_ sitting on that tiny-ass chair. Why, I just wanna grab her around the waist, tie her up to my bed, and—'" The Joker cut himself off when he saw my increasing look of horror.

He cleared his throat to calm himself down, and gave me a suggestive smirk.

"You know what I mean," He amended, "Now where was I, uh, oh yes. Why? Because this little girl is going to play 'dress-up' and distract another son of a powerful, not to mention fucking loaded pussy who's connections we need to carry-out the last crucial step in our, uh, 'Big Blowout Party.' Doesn't that sound fun my little sex Kitten?"

I didn't respond. It's not as if my consent would make any difference to him anyways.

The Joker laughed.

"I thought so. Now which do you want, Kitty Kat? Chloroform or plastic bag?" He held up both as he named them.

Oh wow, the chloroform is a nice new touch. I chuckled to myself, '_My mom did always want me to try new things,_' I thought a bit humorlessly.

I looked at the Joker, and pointed to the chloroform. He nodded, and tossed the rag covered in the substance at the goon closest to me.

Before I knew it, my mouth was covered, and purely the result of reflex, I inhaled, and my brain began to get cloudy.

The last thing I saw before my body went limp, were the Joker's impossibly dark eyes staring at me intently.

I made sure to close my legs before I succumbed to unconsciousness.

* * *

I don't think I'll ever get used to the feeling of unconsciousness.

It's almost as if you mind in submerged in a tank of warm water, and it's disconnected from the rest of your body. When I wake up, my mind always feels so cloudy, and I have to put in _real_ effort to remember everything.

Through the fog, I think I heard the mockingly high-though sometimes low-voice of The Joker as he was most likely consulting his brain-less goons.

He chuckled a bit.

"Hmm . . . for some reason . . . I, uh, have an urge to just let sleeping cats lie . . . Ha Ha Ha but I hate cats. And so let's get this party started.

A thick boot jabbed the heel of its rubber sole into the left side of my face, resulting in me jumping awake and gasping like a fish out of water.

I could barely make out the face of the Joker in the background. It took me a few moments for my eyes to completely adjust as I rubbed them tentatively. When I finally felt conscious and aware, I sighed in relief.

"Welcome back sleeping beauty! I'll be expecting a thank you from you for keeping The Boys from raping your utterly defenseless body in your sleep. It wasn't an easy task I'll tell you that—not-so-much because I myself want a go at it, but mostly . . ." The Joker faded off while grinning. His face took on a contemplating far-away look that had me slightly concerned.

Don't get me wrong. I can think of way worse things than being 'raped' by the Joker himself, but doing it right now, in a van crowded with people occupying I.Q.s of low double digit numbers don't exactly excite me in any shape or form.

"Not to be rude and interrupt your um . . . current thought process," I said timidly, turning away my face so that it hide the blush creeping up, "But whatever it is that you're going to be having me do today, I'd rather get it over with as quickly as scientifically possible."

Without even having to look at him, I knew that the Joker's eyes were trained on me in what I assumed to be a heated stare.

"Katty," He purred, "Can it be that, perhaps, you're _eager_ to get back to me as soon as possible?"

I whipped my head back around quickly.

"No!" I proclaimed, astounded that he'd have the audacity to say something like that in front of everyone.

I saw a foreign emotion flicker across his face before it disappeared. Terrified, I quickly tried to correct my words.

"No!" I exclaimed, sounding surprisingly panicked, "I—I—I I couldn't, I mean, I wouldn't _want _to get back to—I mean. Wait. It's not that I _wouldn't_ want to see you again or anything like—uh, no, what I really mean to say is—"

"Not to interrupt your captivating trail of thought," The Joker stated wryly, as the goons snickered behind him, "But we're _horrifyingly _behind schedule, and as that random asshole who's name I can't remember once said, 'Time is of the essence'"

This marked another one of the countless times that I've turned my head away in embarrassment since meeting the Joker. He didn't notice it this time though. He was too busy conversing with the goons, most likely giving them their instructions or something.

He'd yet to inform me of my own personal task in this mission. And part of me really _didn't _actually want to know.

Soon enough, the Joker turned back around to face me, a hard look in his eye, the familiar hint of humor, as though the entire world were a big joke, but all traces of warmth had completely vanished.

"You," he called.

I got to my feet on the unstable moving van, and cautiously approached the angry Joker. When I was close enough, he grabbed my chin in his hands and scrutinized me seemingly impassively.

He took a deep breath and released his grip on me. "You're going to be our distraction today, Katherine. Here's what you're going to do, so listen up good. If you make even one fucking mistake, I swear strait to the big man upstairs, that I'll wipe your blood off the bottom of my boot after I get through with you. So, are you listening?"

I nodded dumbly. Too terrified and aroused by his intensity to speak. I was a little concerned though, I'm pretty famous with Roxanne for my incredible ability to forget important things I needed to do.

He gave me a hard stare, contemplating my expression for signs of hesitance or incomprehension towards his words.

He seemed momentarily satisfied and grinned half-heartedly.

"I don't believe that you'll remember my words," The Joker muttered quietly with a smile, "For some . . . uncanny reason, I get the impression that you're a little, uh, how do I say this nicely? Spacey. Yeah." The Joker grinned knowingly at me, "Definitely. Spacey."

I thought it best not to say anything. It's incredible how well this guy could read a person.

"I wrote you some instructions ok? I'm going to give you . . . tasks. Right after you complete each task, you. Look. At. The. Next. One. Simple enough right?"

"Yeah,"

The Joker handed me the folded piece of paper.

"Alrighty then. Now get the fuck out of the van. I'm done with you."

The Joker cackled loudly as the goons pulled me out of the van and into the street. The doors shut abruptly, cutting off the sound of the Joker's laugh completely.

I couldn't help but feel hurt at The Joker's words. It was twisted, I know, The Joker's not really well known for his expressive kindness, but still. It stung pretty bad.

The van pulled away from the sidewalk, leaving me on a shady looking street in front of two steel doors bolted together, locked by a metal bar on the front.

I unfolded the paper carefully, because I partially expected in to explode in my face or something similar. Nothing happened when I straitened it out though, so I read my first task.

_Knock on the door directly in front of you._

I made a face at the first task. _'Wow,'_ I thought sadly, _'That's_ some _confidence the Joker has concerning me.' _

I sighed dejectedly and made my way to the doors. I raised my arm up sarcastically and knocked loudly.

I stood there for a second, waiting, before I remembered the joker's instructions. Quickly, I read the next task.

2.) _Say, 'The rook, is on the chessboard,'_

"The rook is on the chessboard?" I voiced aloud, confused.

Suddenly, the iron bar locking the entrance slid off to the right side, and one of the doors swung open. The motion was so quick that I reacted by dropping the paper, and as I bent down to pick it back up, the door started closing shut.

Frantically, As soon as my fingertips touched the paper, I ran and slid myself inside at the last moment.

Breathing heavily from fear, I took a moment to collect myself, and steady my breathing, putting my right hand on my chest.

"Hmm . . . what an _interesting _specimen you are little girl."

My head whipped around in the direction of the deep voice coming from behind me.

I felt a large presence looming over my head, but it was so dark that all I could make out were his sharp, glowing green eyes as he yanked me by my arm.

"C'mon," he growled, "You're late. Boss has been waiting for you."

I already hate where this is going.

The large presence pulled me into a big room with only one light bulb hanging directly in the of a large, wooden, circular table. The table was filled with partially bald, some over weight, well dressed men who looked like they could pose for some shoddy car salesmen. Or maybe con artists. These guys were definitely bad news.

The best-looking man at the table perked up when he spotted me, and he adjusted himself in his large chair in a way that gave him the illusion of a man holding great power.

The man sat at the very end of the table, in the position furthest away from me. All the other appeared to be flanking him, as if they were his workers, and he was the boss.

'Oh. So he's the guy I'm dealing with,' I thought considering.

The large presence pushed me to the ground when I was far enough into the room, causing my skirt to ride up my butt, and momentarily flash everyone.

Good thing that the Joker had been solicitous enough to give me modest panties to wear. All the heads at the table whipped around analyze my presence. A few made a move to help me up, but were halted by the hand of the man at the end of the table.

The man folded his hands, contemplating my vulnerable position for a few moments.

The man turned to the guy who tugged me into the room, and gestured him to come forward. As the mysterious figure stepped closer towards the light, I was able to catch a good glimpse of his face.

I wish I hadn't. The man looked haggard to say in the least. His face was marred by long, bright pink scars traveling vertically across his face, contrasting wrinkled, tanned skin. One of the man's eyes appeared to be an unnatural shade of pale blue, almost as if he were blind. The other was mud-colored.

The man had hair going all the way to the backs of his thighs, tied up into a low ponytail. He wore clothes with stains and rips and holes in them. All of which had a dirty brown color faded into them. His shoes were sandals, and I looked away before I could observe his disgusting yellow feet.

I discreetly wiped the arm that the man touched, hoping to remove the grime that might've been left there.

The good-looking man at the end of the table made sure that his minion didn't come to close to him, as it was evident that he was thoroughly repulsed by the haggard man as well.

"Who is this girl?" Asked the good-looking boss.

"Dunno sir," The haggard man's voice was nothing but a growl, "By er password, she's ere to deliver something to yeh."

The man sighed, "Garrett, are you _absolutely _sure that you got the _right_ message? Everyone knows your little issue with your . . . shall we say . . . intelligibility . . ." The man trailed off suggestively.

"What-chu tryin to say, asshole?" Garret growled angrily, "Yeh callin' me stupid or somethin'?" He took a step towards the good-looking man.

The man put his hands up to stop Garrett from getting any closer. Most likely out of repulsion of Garrett's lack of hygiene rather then fear.

"No no no," The man backtracked, "No one's saying anything Garret, don't worry. Why don't you sit down in your chair _all the way_ at the end of the room? You've given me the information I need. Please go now."

Garrett glared at the man for another second or two before he growled headed towards the chair at the back of the room.

Once Garret sat down, the man looked at me once again.

"Now," he pursued, raising his arms up and touching his fingertips together reflectively, "I see that you've managed to find your way to me, whoever you are. Pray tell, what is your purpose here exactly?"

I scrambled my brain for anything close to a believable response when I recalled the instructions of the Joker.

I had crumpled the paper in my hands in fear when Garret had grabbed me, and forgotten about it while the previous scene had played out before me.

I unfurled my fingers surreptitiously, and I studied the paper, trying to view the words in the dim lighting.

I think it said _3.) You're here to clean the rooms. _

"I'm here to clean the rooms." I answered dutifully. In a voice I hoped to be firm and convincing.

The man looked at me incredulously.

"You're here . . . to _clean . . ._ the rooms," He asked again slowly, as if saying it would help him comprehend better.

I checked the list again, checking to see if I had read that wrong. I read it again the same way. So I nodded.

The man didn't speak for a few heartbeats, scrutinizing my face for any signs of deception.

I began to squirm under his intense gaze, which brought his attention to the dress that I was wearing. His eyebrow rose a fraction.

"Ah,"

I tilted my head slightly. The man smirked.

"I see now. You're here to _clean_ the _rooms_. All right then, I understand. Louis?" A well-dressed really skinny, pointy-faced man manifested behind me.

"Please see to it that the uh, _cleaning lady_ makes it to the master bed room safely. Thank you." The man dismissed Louis and I with a wave of his hands.

Before I left the room though, I turned around to catch him staring at my retreating figure with a creepy grin on his face.

Louis took me through dark hallway after dark hallway. I couldn't even see my hands in front of me it was so dark. This feature would make it almost impossible to retrace my steps and escape.

My palms began to sweat a bit.

Louis threw open a door to my right and tossed me inside like I were a light backpack or something. I landed on my knees in front of the bed, and turned around just in time to see the door slam shut, and hear the lock clicking into place.

"_Well then that settles that I guess,"_ I thought sarcastically.

Following the Joker's instructions, I looked at the piece of paper.

_4.) Look for the wooden, mahogany clothing cabinet, and open the third drawer. Sift through all of the clothing until you get to the bottom. At the bottom, look for an IPhone 4, and enter the pin # 3657. _

These instructions were way more elaborate. I didn't think to question at the moment though, how exactly the Joker would know that I'd end up here by saying what he wanted me to, because I've learned from my experience with the Joker that it's best for everyone if you kind of just _go with it._

Quietly, I walked over to the only wooden cabinet in the room, and counted the drawers until I got to the third one. I pulled it open by the handle, and brushed a long strand of hair out of my face, and pulled out some clothes to reach the bottom.

And sure enough, there was the IPhone. I picked it up gingerly, afraid that some alarm might go off or something if I just snatched it up, and pressed the button on the bottom to turn on the screen.

Nothing happened, and so I entered the pin number.

I was about to look at my next task, when the door clicked open, and the good-looking man at the table entered the room.

I almost threw the phone back into the drawer, and I slammed it shut quickly.

"What are you doing?" He asked me curiously.

I froze.

My heart was beating rapidly, and my breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps. I turned around to face him. He was looking at me accusingly.

With nothing else to say, and no way to escape, I looked to the crumpled piece of paper for help.

My eyes shot open, and I felt ice sliding down my back in fear. I looked up at the man in front of me like a deer caught in headlights.

The message repeated itself in my head like an echo.

_5.) Kill him. _

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**A/N: Sorry about the short chapter guys. If I at least get five reviews, I'll make the next one way longer, I promise.**

**Comments, questions, critiques? REVIEW PLEASE**!

**_-SongsThatSerenade7~!_**


	4. What do I do?

**Hey guys, it's me again. Quickly, I just wanna thank,Lolielolszx Haley, Le Bijou, and SummerFeally for reviewing my story. Now, I know that some of you might be afraid that I'll ditch this story, but I promised my friend (for whom I wrote this story) that I'd finish it as a birthday present for her. :) PINKY PROMISED.**

**P.S. I have absolutely NO BETA, so please excuse the grammatical errors. ^_^;  
**

**Disclaimer: I forgot to do this, and it hurts me every time, but I DO NOT own anything from the DC comics. AT ALL.**

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**CHAPTER 4**

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**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I began to hyperventilate, as the words kept repeating in my head over and over and over again like some sort of broken record.

"Did you hear me woman?" The man asked impatiently, "I asked you a question."

"Uh, um, I—I was, uh, polishing the cabinet! Yeah, polishing it." I spluttered out quickly. I turned around and pretended to appear to be dusting the furniture in the same position he caught me in.

The man said nothing. I could hear him shuffling behind me as I 'worked'. I took this time to stealthily look around the room a bit, and nodded my head in approval. Modern themed, It had pale blue walls, potted trees in every corner, a King-sized bed, a square lamp on the bedside table, and one cabinet.

Not the best I've seen, but still pretty nice.

"That's funny." The man said suddenly breaking me away from my thoughts, "I thought that usually cleaning ladies would see an unmade bed and do that first before anything else."

My head snapped up quickly. "Shit!" I thought aggravated, "How did I not notice the bed?" I had walked in and hadn't tried to keep up the pretense.

My eyes moved quickly, as if looking around would provide me with a plausible excuse for not doing the simplest task when it came to cleaning. I looked back at the cabinet.

"Yeah, but like, the cabinet just looked so dirty. I mean, it truly was disgusting how dusty it was. I couldn't even think to do anything else—it bothered me to no end I swear." I replied, trying my best to sound genuinely disgusted and haughty like my mom would when she was cleaning my room.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the man look thoughtful before nodding his head—accepting my response.

"Of course," he said.

I wiped the cabinet with my hand to clean it as a way of taking my mind off of my next task. The man didn't say anything, and I was too afraid to turn around for fear that he would catch me glance at him.

He cleared his throat.

"Oh wow," He exclaimed suddenly, "I just realized that I had forgotten to make the proper introductions the entire time you were here. Please excuse me, my name is Benny Portichino. Just call me Ben."

Ben sounded a little embarrassed saying this, and I heard a hint of an Italian accent when he told me his name.  
"I'm Katherine," I replied hoping that I sounded friendly. Roxanne had told me in the past that I had a tendency to sound impassive and cold when I didn't really feel like talking to someone, so I put on my most cheerful voice, complete with the smile and everything.

"Nice to meet you," he said from behind me.

Silence.

I heard Ben shuffle around a bit before he took a deep breath, and said what he'd been holding back since he'd entered the room.

"You're not a cleaning lady,"

He didn't pose this as a question. It was a statement that left little room for argument. I paused my ministrations and turned to look at him questioningly.

"I'm sorry?" I asked quietly.

Ben walked towards me slowly. "You're not a cleaning lady," he repeated, "Your purpose here isn't to clean anything is what I'm saying," He kept getting closer to me, "No maid would be dressed as sexily as you are. At least . . ." Ben chuckled darkly as he backed me up into the cabinet

"Not one that actually cleans anything,"

Ben put both arms beside each side of my head, trapping me. He gazed at me with a predator-like look in his eyes; as if he were a hungry cat that had caught its first mouse . . .

Ben leaned down until his face was right next to my ear. My heart was pumping with anxiety, not because I wanted him to do anything to me in that way, but because I knew deep in my heart that I might actually have to kill him in order for me to escape.

"So," He whispered, his breath tickling my ear, "What are you really here for, hmm? Where you . . . looking for something . . . someone perhaps?" He asked me.

"I—I uh," My brain wasn't functioning correctly. I couldn't properly formulate complete thoughts into my head. All that came were random action words here and there.

"Danger. Not right. Bad news. Joker's rules. Kill him. Escape."

I had to think fast. I could feel his lips lightly skimming up and down my neck giving me Goosebumps where he touched me.

My eyes searched the room for something to knock him out with before things went too far. The only thing that I could think of though, was the square lamp at the other end of the room. Nothing else was in proximity to me, and I was running out of options.

Ben removed one of his hands from the cabinet and began to skim the surface of my skin.

Like a burst of lightning, I remembered something Roxanne had told me before. Something about self-defense.

"Katherine, if you need to get a guy off of you, make sure you—"

I kneed Ben in the groin.

He made a sick gurgling sound, and collapsed to the floor.

"Then when he's down, you gotta—"

I used my foot to kick him onto his stomach, then I squatted to his level, gathered all my energy, and hit Ben with the edge of my hand in a Karate-chop motion in the area between his neck and his shoulder joint.

Ben yelled out in pain before unconsciousness cut him off. I was panting heavily as I let the adrenaline run its course through my body. I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

"Make sure you do it right Katherine," Roxanne had told me, "Otherwise, you might end up killing the dude . . ."

I didn't have time to think about the possible murder that I may have committed. I had a mission to accomplish, and I didn't know how far that little episode put me behind schedule.

I stood up and fumbled with the drawer to get it open again and quickly found the IPhone 4. Not missing a beat, I entered the pin number 3657 and looked at the phone.

Nothing special about the phone on the inside, no gangster wallpaper that might've eluded to who the owner was. No special apps or anything.

Confused, I checked the piece of paper again for further instruction.

6.) If you're still looking at this, then you've failed.

I frowned at the words. What the hell does THAT mean? Ok . . . So maybe the pin number wasn't just to unlock the phone.

I looked through all the apps on the phone, and then I went to the settings and the stocks and every other reasonable app on the phone. I didn't find anything that required me using a password.

The only things that I hadn't looked at were the photos. And I couldn't imagine what I could possibly find of use in there.

I sighed. I didn't really have any more options though, so I touched the little flower icon on the screen and rifled through the pictures, until I came across something that looked like a grid. A really complicated, really elaborate grid.

It didn't look very substantial, so I quickly disregarded it, and continued looking.

"Oh no," I thought fretfully, "What am I gonna say to The Joker? He'll kill me if I don't get the info he needs . . ."

The Phone vibrated in my hands. A little blue square appeared on the screen and told me that an unknown number was calling me.

Not really thinking, I swiped my finger where it said 'answer' and said, "Uh, hello?"

"KITTY!" The phone screeched in my ear and I cringed away from the Joker's booming voice. "You passed the test little girl! CONGRATS! Hold tight Kat. We'll have someone there to get you in a second." He hung up before I could reply.

Wait. What? What exactly was the point of all of this? What had I accomplished? How did the Joker know to call me right now?

Jeez, you'd think that the Joker was some sort of psychic or something. I shook my head and walked towards the bed, and sat on it, waiting for the Joker to arrive.

True to the Joker's word, the Goons arrived quickly to pick me up and lead me out of the place. When I got back to the room with the table of full of creeps, the stench of blood filled my nostrils, and I closed my eyes before I could see anything horrible.

We went outside, and I was once again knocked out for the car ride home. When I came to, probably hours later, I had several very angry faces hovering above me.

"What the fuck do you mean he's not dead? How the hell'd she get away from him?" Boomed the Joker's voice angrily.

"Boss," Someone mumbled, wiping the sweat off of his forehead, "He was breathin' and everythin'. He wouldn't wake up if we'd bulldozed the place and set the room on fire, he wouldn't." The voice sounded nervous.

"And . . . tell me . . . Why didn't you set the room on fire?"

"We didn't-"

"Tell me . . . what gave you the idea that I wanted him alive?"

"Boss please! We had no-"

"So tell me . . . why were your heads shoved so far up your asses, that you couldn't even see that I. Wanted. Him. Dead?"

"It's not his fault Joker" I spoke up suddenly. Having a burst of empathy for the poor goon who was obviously about to die.

The Joker directed his fiery gaze at me, and slowly smiled sinisterly, licking his lips.

"Oh? Then uh," The Joker chuckled, "You should be the one getting punished . . . shouldn't you be?"

I didn't have time to protest. The Joker had swept me off the ground and dragged me out of the room. The last thing I saw before The Joker shut the door to his room, were the sympathetic gazes of the goons.

The Joke lifted me up slightly, and threw me onto the bed.

"Now," The Joker growled loosening up his tie, "Let's have a little chat."

* * *

"Oh God,"

The Joker sauntered over to me menacingly. His face wore a scowl and his posture told me that he was ready pounce at any moment. Any other time I'd welcome his advances with open arms and a sly grin, but this was different. This was more . . .

Serious.

"Joker. Listen. Wait," I pleaded desperately, "I really can explain! What happened was that I—"

"What makes you think . . . that I'm willing to listen to reason?" The Joker asked darkly, scowl still firmly in place.

The Joker took another step forward. "You see Kitty Kat, when someone is angry . . . the strangest thing happens. They get, somewhat, un-rational you could say. They go a little," The Joker licked his scars, "Crazy . . ."

I gulped audibly.

"Let me ask you something Katty," The Joker sneered his eyes drooping slightly, "Wanna know how I got these scars?"

I nodded automatically, knowing exactly where this was going. The Joker grinned.

"Once upon a time, in a perfect world, there was this perfect little boy, with this perfect little family, and a perfect little life," The Joker began, spitting out the word 'perfect' like it was a curse.

"This perfect little boy—let's call him Sammy—perfect little Sammy, was a very nice boy. He never did anything to anybody. He always had a nice, crisp, juicy red apple for all his teachers, a happy smile on his face, and a kind word of greeting for anyone and everyone that passed him by."

The Joker reached the edge of the bed, and climbed upon it without any preamble. He slowly began to slither his way up the bed to my frozen form.

"But, as everyone knows little Kat," The Joker chuckled humorlessly, "The world. Isn't. Perfect."

The Joker's hand reached the bottom of my foot. His fingers slid up my ankle, to my calves, and then to my knee. I was too captivated by him and his words to even think to pull myself away.

"One day. Perfect little Sammy had graciously offered to go buy the groceries for his mother, who'd just come back from a long day at work, and was very much exhausted. Sammy's mother gave him money to buy the food with, and off went little Sammy, on his way to do a good deed for his dear loving mother." His words were soaking the floor with sarcasm.

The Joker had managed to creep right up over me, and was now so close; that I could feel his breath on my nose, and I could see every little crack in his poorly put clown make-up. He was looking directly into my eyes, but I still couldn't manage to separate his pupils from his irises when they were the exact same onyx black color.

"Sammy had been walking down the streets of Gotham at around twilight, going to the supermarket for sweet little mommy, once again greeting every single little shit, like he was some sort of bumbling happy idiot, when he was pulled roughly into one of the many dark alleys of Gotham, shoved up against a wall, and smacked around for his money."

The Joker tilted his head.

"Imagine Kitty. Some poor little bastard, innocent as a fucking unicorn, beaten for the money in his pockets! The bad people were just about to leave poor little Sammy, unharmed with no money in his pockets, when Sammy did the stupidest thing. He told the muggers 'goodbye', with a smile, like the good little boy he was raised to be."

The Joker shook his head slightly, still not breaking eye contact with me.

"Now, the mugger, being the pompous insolent little fucker he was, thought that Sammy was mocking him. 'All right asshole,' the mugger told Sammy, 'you wanna smile? I'll make it so that you smile forever.' The mugger took out a knife, grabbed the kid by his face, and promised him the he's gonna soon find out just how cruel life could be."

"So the mugger slashed Sammy's face into a permanent smile. He carved each cheek with a demented grin on his face, while the kid struggled and screamed at the top of his lungs for someone to help him."

"Sammy came home that night, his face a mangled mess, his eyes blood shot from crying so hard, wanting nothing more, than to be comforted by his mother and father."

The Joker paused for a moment, letting me soak in all of this information, and he pulled his left hand up from my knee, and placed it lightly on my upper thigh.

"Funniest thing happens," The Joker stated factually, chuckling after he did so, "Recently imperfect little Sammy gets home, his parents see him all bloody and scarred for life, and they scream. They yell at the poor boy. They disown him, because he is no longer perfect, therefore, he doesn't belong in his perfect family. Where does he go you ask? Why, to the loving streets of Gotham of course! Destined to be a homeless man, a drug dealer, a rapist, and . . . of course . . . a murderer."

There was a deafening silence in the room. Neither of us moved. Me out of fear, and him out of . . . waiting for me to move.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died on my tongue when I saw the look on his face.

"You disobeyed me Katherine," I shivered as he said my name that way, "I like to be . . . in. Charge. Uh . . . dominant, you could say. So you might not be surprised to find me not in a very merciful mood at the moment."

Suddenly, I felt something cold and hard pressing against my neck, digging into the soft skin lightly.

"What to do, what to do," The Joker sang.

My breaths quickly turned to pants and my eyes widened as he put his hands on either side of my face with the knife still pressed to me, and stuck out his tongue to lick the outer shell of my ear.

I shrieked a bit when he did that, and shut my eyes tightly, waiting for him to either kill me, or have his wicked way with me.

He did neither.

He swiftly released me without a word. He got up off the bed, and put his tie back on, grinning at me throughout the process.

"I believe that leaving you like this is a very fitting punishment for you, Kitty. Seeing as how you're so hot for my bad boy charms. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some extremely important business to tend to due to your dire fuck up, and so I'll be—"

"Nobody's perfect, Joker"

The Joker's head swiveled around to look at me. His black eyes bored into my head mercilessly and I inwardly cringed at my outburst.

The Joker faked a laugh. "Heh," He said, smirking, "Wanna run that by me . . . again?"

I sighed, 'As long as I am gonna die, I might as well have my last words,' I thought.

"Nobody's perfect," I repeated, "The problem with your story is that Sammy was never perfect. And just because your face is scarred doesn't mean that you're any less 'perfect' than anyone else—And before you say anything, I know that you're not a good person ok? I just want you to know that not everyone judges people based on their looks. You're not destined to be anything solely on your appearance. If I'd met you back then, I'd have thought you looked cool. Because that's just the type of person I am. So yeah." I finished lamely.

I didn't realize that I'd been babbling like an idiot while I was talking, because while I lectured him, I couldn't help but watch the rainbow of emotions flitter rapidly across his face, and so I lost focus and told him more than was necessary.

The Joker didn't respond to me after that, he just had this blank look carved on his face for quite a while. He seemed to be contemplating my words. Considering them before he'd for sure disregard everything. Finally, he tilted his head at me, and grinned widely.

"One of these days Kitty . . ." The Joker said, humor thick in his voice, "I'm either going to kiss you . . . or kill you."

* * *

And with that, he swept out of the room and shut the door behind him, leaving me, wide-eyed and open mouthed like a fish out of water.

The next day, the Joker announced to the goons and I, that he had a managed to arrange a date for the "Big Blowout Party", BBP for short.

He wouldn't tell me where the BBP was to transpire though. He shooed me out of the room to plot or scheme or converse (or whatever the hell he was doing with them), and left me to my rather rambunctious thoughts.

I wasn't aware of how long exactly the Joker planned on keeping me alive with him, helping him with his diabolical schemes and murderous intentions and whatnot, but I was beginning to get homesick.

I hadn't seen Roxanne in over two weeks! And that's the longest we've been separated since we first became best friends back in the ninth grade!

I sighed deeply. For a few days now, there's been a little feeling nibbling at the back of my brain telling me that I'm forgetting something. Something vital. But for the life of me, I'm completely clueless as to what exactly I'd left behind.

Walking down the dark hallway and to the Joker's room, I tried to recall what I had with me during my kidnapping at the bank weeks ago.

I remember I had just come back from the Coup de la fleur art studio after almost getting my head torn off by that lousy Jeffrey Parkins, and I was hungry, so I definitely had my purse with me.

I entered the room and immediately walked over to the giant bed.

Let's see, in my purse was my wallet, my cell phone, my—

I froze mid-climb with one leg in the air, going over the mattress when it dawned on me. I slapped the palm of my hand to my forehead with a loud smack.

"Oh no," I whispered distressed, "Oh no no no no no! Jeffrey Parkins! The Coup de la Fleur art studio! The Art show! Oh God . . ."

Usually it wouldn't bother me so much if I had missed a deadline for bringing in my art—no one can rush a master piece— and of course, I can be really spacey with time and stuff, but I always try and be serious with my artwork, and this time I was really panicking.

And then the full weight of the situation hit.

"I'm never going to be able to be an artist in Gotham city," I thought morosely, "I'm going to have to succumb to a life of evil and theft and murder with the Joker!"

I contemplated that for a moment and then brightened, " . . . Which . . . isn't TOO bad of a thought considering . . ."

Then I thought back to what I've always wanted to be my entire life, and the smile slid from my face. "It's just . . . not my dream,"

I sighed heavily and curled up on the Joker's bed, feeling defeated and deflated.

There wasn't even anything I could do about my situation, I had no materials to use, nothing to use it on and no inspiration for it! The deadline is going to be four days from now. Don't get me wrong; I get pressed for deadlines all the time. I just pull some all-nighters and morph myself into a nocturnal mammal—the obvious tactics—but with this . . .

I mean, unless I just paint the walls with my excrement, chew off the plaster with my teeth, strap the gnawed off, shit-covered piece of wall onto my back with my clothing, and hitch-hike my way back to Gotham City—somehow avoiding all the creeps and rapists out there—chances are, I'm not gonna succeed in making it on time.

I thought about asking the Joker for some supplies to do my assignment for the art show, but quickly disregarded it immediately.

I smirked humorlessly, "He'd probably say something like, 'what do I look like Kitty? Your slave?' and then laugh and walk away, as if my request were nothing more than a really good joker."

My musings came to an abrupt halt when the door to the Joker's rooms slammed open, and in came the very object of my thoughts himself—The Joker.

"Katty Baby! AY!" The Joker boomed, all smiles and laughter, "I thought it be such a treat if I paraded you around my goons in some out—fits we found for you. Doesn't that sound uh, n—Oh Kitty Katty . . . this is no time for a nap!"

The Joker absorbed my fetal position on his ocean of a bed, and seemed a little thrown off by the expression on my face.

I sighed, "I'm not napping Joker,"

He frowned at me. "Well then what's all this? Ina any other situation, I'd say 'what's with the long face,' and then make some undeniably humorous and clever joke about horses, but your face is actually uh, longer. Than. That."

The Joker paused for a moment when I didn't respond, and then broke out into a dazzling grin, seizing the opportunity to torment me further.

"What's wrong little Kitty?" The Joker cooed, mimicking an overly sympathetic person, "Are you homesick? Aw, you poor, poor baby!" The sweetness in his voice began to turn sour as he kept talking.

"Not homesick huh? Well what can old Joker do for you then? Are your pillows not Fluff-fy enough for yeh? Or maybe your bed's not big enough?" The Joker began to snarl out his words, "How about we all go and get some fucking ice cream cones to cheer you up! Old Joker would never want you to have to suffer through a fucking bad da—"

"Have you ever had dreams Joker?"

The Joker blinked in surprise, the remnants of his anger were still present, but my invasive comment diffused him a bit. And although he appeared to be a bit suspicious of the direction of this conversation, he still managed to attain a sly grin into his expression.

"Are we talking the sleeping kind? Cause uh," The Joker paused to lick his lips, "I get those, only mine are a little . . . soggy, you could say, and not. With. Water,"

The Joker winked at me and I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. I worry about myself when comments like that cheer me up.

"No," I replied, chuckling, "I mean the ones you think about as a little kid. You know, what you want to grow up to be and stuff, like a princess, or an astronaut. Stuff like that."

The Joker looked at me blankly for about half a second before he collapsed into loud guffaws, wiping his eyes when he'd calmed down.

"Oh Kit Kat, don't get all nostalgic on me now. What is this? The Disney Channel? What possible reason do you have for asking me these questions out of the blue like that? Are you pregnant or some shit?" The Joker asked incredulously, still laughing a bit.

"No!" I exclaimed, horrified at his outrageous assumption.

The Joker just laughed at the look on my face.

I sighed again, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

"I just—I've just always wanted to be an artist you know? An animator to be exact. But . . ." The Joker had begun to get a hold of himself by now, and appeared to be a little curious with my speech.

"Well," I continued, "There was so much competition down in Metropolis—where I was born," The Joker nodded thoughtfully, "—and so I thought I'd have better luck here. All that I got though was an opportunity to have it seen by people, from the Coup de la Fleur art studio downtown. I'm hoping that if people at least see it, they'll be curious enough to seek me out and give me a job."

"So what's the problem?" Asked the Joker, "Is some guy not letting you put your work in?"

"No," I replied sighing, "That's not it. The art director, Jeffrey Parkins, let me submit my work into he studio for this big art show coming up—"

"Well that's fan-fucking-tastic Kitty! Then why're you bitching so hard?"

The Joker began to chuckle as if I were some poor confused child crying over nothing. "You've got nothing to worry about. I mean, of course, unless you're art sucks balls, then you're fucked. But if—"

"The deadline is in four days," I deadpanned. Looking at the ground.

The Joker didn't respond.

"Well shit," He said finally, placing his right hand on his hip, and running the left one through his hair.

The Joker rubbed his scars for a bit, deep in thought, glancing at me every few moments. I wasn't looking at him, but I could still see him in my peripheral vision.

He clapped his hands together, calling my attention to him. I looked at him with a glimmer of hope in my eyes.

The Joker looked at me for a few more beats, the he sighed/growled.

"I like you Kath-her-ine." He stated, moving to sit down on the bed beside me, "So I'm a make you a deal. You need uh, supplies and stuff, for your pro-ject right?"

I nodded.

"Ok kitty. Tell you what. I'll supply you with your, uh, whatever the fuck you need. But in return, I want the ob-ject of your mas-ter-piece to be . . ."

The Joker turned his entire body to face me and gave me the biggest, most elaborate evil smirks I've ever seen.

"Me."

My eyes enlarged about ten-fold.

"YOU?" I spluttered

The Joker frowned mockingly. "No little Kitty, not you, ME. Get it right this time." The Joker's smile grew until it took over his whole face. "I certainly hope that it's not any hassle for you, Kat. But! If you don't want to, then good luck finding someone with the right connections to—"

I couldn't hold myself back any longer. I threw my arms around the Joker's shoulders and squeezed him tightly, trying my hardest not to let out a long, high-pitched squeal in anticipation.

I have no idea how long I've wanted to use the Joker as a model for my work. In the past, I've created many sketches of him in my notebook, and I'd used to fantasize about getting him to pose for me while I draw.

It was clear that the Joker had not been expecting me to hug him for propositioning me to draw him as my art show project. In fact, he had probably assumed that taking time to do nothing but stare at him for the next four days strait would send me running.

The Joker quickly recovered after a heartbeat or two, prying my arms from his body and trapping them under his hands, restraining me from moving.

I was now facing the center of his chest, and he had me in a position where I couldn't see the expression on his face.

The Joker leaned his head down towards mine until I could feel him breathing on the origin of my hairline.

"And what exactly gave you the idea that I would let. You. Touch. Me?" He asked in a deceptively calm voice.

He released me by pushing me away from him forcefully. Glaring at me while doing so. I recoiled a bit at his aggressive reaction, but then I peered a bit more closely into his onyx eyes. The strange thing was, that I could see that he wasn't truly angry with me for hugging him, but more suspicious of the reasons behind my actions.

I wanted to laugh. Here he was, thinking that I was going to try and trick him or something malicious like that, just for giving him a friendly hug.

I gave him a small smile, showing him that I wasn't afraid of him at the moment, which only served to arise his suspicions further.

"I just wanted to thank you Joker, I wasn't trying to over step any boundaries or anything. I guess I kinda got a little carried away." I said sheepishly.

The Joker continued to scrutinize me for a beat or two, before releasing a loud, boisterous, laugh.

"Katty, Baby!" He exclaimed merrily, "Why didn't you just say so? Besides," The Joker licked his lips, "If you really wanted to thank me, I could find a um, uh . . . few more ways for you to uh . . . do so." The Joker wriggled his eyebrows at me suggestively, making me laugh.

"Well then," I responded, playing along, "I'll be sure to remember to take requests when thanking you next time you do something considerate for me."

"In that case," The Joker swept his hands around the room theatrically, "Take your pick of whatever you want sweetheart. Tell me how I can be nice enough for you to want. To. Thank. Me." The Joker winked at me and I laughed again.

The tense atmosphere disappeared entirely between us and it almost felt like we were beginning to become . . . something.

"Now!" The Joker announced, directing my attention away from my thoughts. He quickly spun around, placed both of his palms flat on my back, and literally shoved me off of the bed.

I wasn't at all prepared for this, so I shrieked a little when he pushed me, and I stumbled a bit when my feet hit the ground. I looked back at him accusingly.

"Let's get going Kitty, the sun's setting, and we wouldn't want you to be out after it gets dark. There are some nasty crooks down there in Gotham City we might wanna watch out for."

* * *

Strangely enough, I wasn't required to be unconscious for this trip to Gotham. But as soon as I got outside, I realized why.

Not only, was the hideout located in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by empty fields and decaying farmland, but we were living in a camouflaged warehouse, that completely blended in perfectly with the trees and plains behind us. But sitting there before me was a long limousine wit incredibly dark tinted windows, and a sleek black exterior.

The window were so tinted in fact, that I doubted its ability to allow any light to pass through it. But I wasn't focusing on the limousine so much as admiring the paint job on the warehouse I currently resided in.

I can't imagine how much money it must've taken to pay an artist talented enough to camouflage a warehouse big enough to house the Joker and his army of goons. I envied the skill of the artist with the patience to disguise an ENTIRE building with these monotonous shades of yellow, orange and brown until it was successfully blended into the wildlife surrounding it.

"I know," The Joker whispered conspiratorially to me, "It really is a building. I hear they're beginning to go extinct in some parts of the world. By all means, let's stand here and watch some fucking paint dry while my balls start dropping and your tits begin to sag instead of fucking leaving like we intended to."

Ahh, the Joker could just be so incredibly charming sometimes.

I tore my eyes away from the spectacular sight reluctantly at first, but when I reminded myself that I was about to take a trip downtown with THE JOKER, I perked up considerably.

I opened the door that led to the back of the limousine and folded myself inside, trying not to flash the joker while climbing inside. I rolled my eyes for the third time since he'd handed me my outfit for today before we left.

Once again I was wearing a dangerously short skirt, but this time it was red, felt like silk against my legs, and flared out at the hips. I was also wearing a tight, stretchy purple tank top that "emphasized the fucking sexy curves of my womanly body" as the Joker called it. His comment allowed me to momentarily forget my personal issues with my body, with was highly appreciated by my ego.

I hadn't failed to notice though, that the joker refrained from giving me a jacket to cover myself up with. Luckily, it was summer, therefore, extremely hot outside, and so I didn't require a jacket.

As soon as I'd adjusted myself to a comfortable position in the limousine, I felt someone shove me aside and sit in the spot I had just recently placed myself in.

"Jeez, Katty! You'd think to give a guy a little elbow room huh?"

The Joker shifted in his seat and straitened his clothing as if he were some highly irritated tourist coming out of the airport.

I just stared at him incredulously.

He immediately went on the offense when he caught my gaze.

"What?" The Joker demanded, "Do you have a problem with me sitting here or something Kath-her-ine? If so, then you can just scoot your cute little ass to the next spot, cause I'm not—"

"No," I interrupted, "I'm just surprised that you aren't sitting shotgun with the driver. I always pegged you to be a shotgun rider,"

The Joker didn't speak for a moment, before his eyes gleamed, and he smirked at me devilishly. I didn't understand his reaction at first, that is, until my uncanny ability to pick up sexual references—built up after years of spending time with Roxanne—kicked in.

I blushed furiously at the hidden implications of my words, and turned my head away from him, avoiding his gaze while he chuckled softly. I knew what he was gonna say.

"Oh Kitty, Kitty, Kitty. If you wanted to uh, drive . . . the car, I would gladly respect your wishes and ride shot-gun," He purred seductively.

It was as if someone had suddenly turned down the temperature in the car, I felt really cold all of a sudden. Not that cold like I had just heard something nasty and disturbing, but that cold where I wanted nothing more than to be warm.

And the Joker was radiating heat.

The vehicle had been in motion for quite sometime now, so the idea of bailing and searching for the amazingly well-done camouflaged warehouse before it became dark was . . . unappealing to say in the least.

Besides. This was the best type of torture in my book.

In that moment, frustrated with my constant spineless behavior around the Joker, I decided to try and impress him.

I turned my head towards him slowly and grinned at him with what I intended to be my most alluring stare.

"Oh really?" I asked the Joker, my voice soft and low as I inched closer to him, "Are you absolutely sure you can handle it? The ride is sure to be . . . bumpy," I attempted to bite my lip sexily, and I stared at the Joker from under my eyelids, secretly pleading myself in my mind to be like Roxanne and sound like she does with her boyfriend Aleks.

The Joker watched me throughout my entire performance and raised an eyebrow, sizing me up for a few seconds.

Slowly, his body began to shake, until he finally collapsed into a powerful fit of laughter. He rolled around on the floor clutching his stomach with both arms, his eyes squeezed shut tightly, and his breaths coming out in short gasps.

My smile dropped from my face slowly, as I absorbed the fact that the Joker was laughing at my failed attempt at being sexy.

Every minute he kept laughing was like a stab at my dying ego, and I sighed, giving up any notion of ever being loved.

"Katty . . . that . . . was the best . . . joke I have ever seen," The Joker spit out in between giggles.

I sighed.

The Joker calmed down after a while, while I pretended to stare out at the window into the world I couldn't make out through the darkness of the windows.

I saw the Joker through my peripheral vision, looking at me to make sure I wasn't watching him, before quickly pulling something—a jacket maybe? —Over his lap.

I didn't acknowledge it for a few seconds, but then I got it.

I smirked to myself and did a secret little finger happy dance in my mind.

"Hmm," I thought happily, "I guess I do have a little power over him after all . . ."

* * *

The car ride continued in semi silence. Every once in a while, the Joker would shift clumsily, or make a few more rude comments about my outfit and what people might think of me for wearing something like this, but these attempts kept failing to ignite a conversation between us.

I might've (most likely have) just been a little embarrassed by my previous attempt at seduction with the Joker, and thought the 'effects' of my actions were sure to have worn off by now, I still couldn't quite look him strait in the eye for reasons unbeknownst to me.

Ok fine. I really didn't understand WHY exactly he chose to offend me in the worst way possible instead of playing along, getting me all hot and bothered, and then pulling back, causing me to get all frustrated and flustered, like he usually does.

I know for a fact that I probably would've minded the latter much less than the former.

But I, nor the Joker were willing to make any compromises at the moment, so the car ride continued in tense silence until we arrived at our destination.

As soon as the car pulled to a stop, the Joker jumped out of the limousine, and threw his hands in the air, breathing deeply with a triumphant look on his face. One would've assumed that he'd conquered his biggest life goal rather than taken a trip to downtown Gotham City.

"Smell that air Kitty Katty! Don't you just love the scent of crime?" The Joker asked, sounding right at home.

I wriggled my way out of the limousine to see that we had, in fact, not made it to Gotham before sunset, but instead, we'd gotten there by the time it had just turned pitch-black.

The Joker was waiting for me to do something.

I assumed that he wanted me to try and 'smell the crime in the air', so I tentatively sniffed, and regretted it immediately.

The air was incredibly stale. I almost forgot how polluted the air was in the city. Fresh air never seemed so appealing. It felt almost as if I were breathing in pure Carbon Dioxide.

I wrinkled my nose dispassionately.

"It smells . . ." I looked up at the Joker, who looked a little intimidating, "Lovely," I finished.

The Joker laughed.

"Oh Kit," He tutted, "You are a terrible liar. I'm not sure I appreciate that. In fact, the uh, only thing I hate more than liars," The Joker licked his lips and smiled darkly, "Are BAD liars."

He stared at me inquistively for a few seconds longer as if debating something within himself, before turning on his heel, and striding into the shop directly in front of him.

I craned my neck upwards to see the sign on the building. It read: Mallie and Rick's Artistic Emporium.

It was incredibly difficult to make out the letters on the sign due to the sheer amount of decorations and razzle-dazzle that covered every surface of the entrance.

Transfixed, I forced my legs to carry me into the store. I grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open, hearing a musical 'Ding' as I did so.

The store was one of the more magical things I have ever seen in my life. The ceilings were impossibly high, various types of chandeliers lighted up the store, and the floor was composed of velvety red carpeting, painted with stars and colorful swirls. There were arrows painted into the carpet with directions leading to different sections of the store. All the isles were set up like a maze-in every section there was something different. Abstract designs were scattered in front of haphazardly colored walls, splattered with so much paint that no one would ever guess the walls to have once been a pristine white.

I gaped almost to the point of drooling. I caught myself just in time though, and when I came to, I gasped, and released a shrill, happy squeal of excitement.

"How have I managed to avoid stumbling upon this place in Gotham? It has got to be the most AMAZING place in the entire world!"

I hadn't realized that I'd spoken aloud until the Joker, materializing right beside me, answered.

"It might just be. Un-for-tun-ate-ly, this shop's run by illegal immigrants, so the gotta uh, remain in hiding if the don't wanna end up in the slammer." The Joker chuckled.

"Now Katty, don't you worry about the prices, go get everything you need. It's, aha, on the house." The Joker sneered.

I was about to tackle the Joker in another fierce hug, when I heard muffled sounds of struggling coming from the back of the store.

The Joker laughed in the direction of the noise.

"Ay! I wouldn't, uh, recommend making too much noise if I. Were. You. I'll handle you later. But scream louder and I might have to go mover there and shut you up." The Joker called, a smile in his voice.

I looked over at him with a mixture of fear, excitement, anticipation, arousal, dread, and horror.

I knew that whoever was at the mercy of the Joker back there in the store, wouldn't make it out in the best shape after this. If at all.

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**A/N: Ooooooooh~! Cliff Hangers . . . GOTTA LOVE EM! Anyways, SURPRISE MATH EQUATION!**

**Reviews+favorites+Story alerts+Favorite author alerts= HAPPY S.T.S7 & Faster update! :D **

-Love as Always!

SongsThatSerenade7


	5. Calling Names

A/N: _Sorry that I'm late by a few days guys, I was really sick this week. I'd like to thank ALL my reviewers for my story! So without further adieu . .  
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**CHAPTER 5**

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"I must be losing my mind," I thought sadly.

The thought of others dying at the hand of the Joker didn't repulse me like it should. I wasn't a total freak though. It's not like I was _expecting _or _anticipating _any punishment the shop owners will presumably endure, I just felt this overwhelming curiosity.

Almost as if I was preparing myself to have questions that have confounded others answered first hand. Like, I would finally know who the Joker is, what his motives are, and how he goes about doing things.

I remembered some days while cooped up in his room back at the warehouse; I could hear this faint screaming. But the yells weren't of fear, but agony. Pure, unadulterated, raw, agony. What bothered me most about this though, was the fact that I couldn't imagine the Joker's reasoning towards torturing and murdering and terrorizing innocent—or perhaps not so innocent—people that way.

The feeling I held was foreign. I could not, for the life of me, come up with a good name for what emotions I had coursing through my veins. I felt dread, horrification, anticipation, empathy, curiosity for sure, and strangely enough, compassion for the man who felt the need to punish the innocent and unsuspecting.

I am aware that many have tried in the past to bring out the human side of the Joker, and have failed miserably, but for some odd reason—for some, unrelenting tick in my conscious—I truly believed that I might be able to succeed in doing so.

The Joker watched me as the rainbow of emotions flittered across my face at sound barrier-breaking speeds. His lips curled up in amusement, as if at any moment, he expected me to begin conversing with myself.

A shrill cry from the back of the store broke me out of my thoughts.

The Joker acted as if the sound were faint, and so he cupped his left ear with his left hand, and leaned in the direction of the sound. He feigned surprise and made a silent "Oh" with his mouth.

"Hear that little Kitty Kathy? Looks like someone broke free of their gag!" The Joker righted himself and clasped his hands together, looking incredibly pleased.

He motioned towards the art supplies. "Go get whatever your heart desires Katty, baby. Hell, you can get everything in the store if you wanted! In fact, I'll just have some goons pick up your shit later. Somehow I doubt you wanna miss this . . ." The Joker licked his lips and beckoned me with his finger.

My legs moved to their own accord and before I knew it, I was following him slowly to the end of the shop. My feet were audibly dragging on the floor.

When we were approaching the end of the room, the Joker turned around slowly, and lifted a finger to his lips, indicating silence. We soon reached a door marked "Staff Only" in brightly decorated neon colors. I stood a safe distance away, while the Joker turned the knob and opened the door slowly . . .

The door hit the wall with a loud "BANG!" and out came the victims, tied together back to back, looking a bit worse for wear with a panicked, crazy look in their eyes as they thrashed and screamed upon seeing the Joker's face. And some how, they'd managed to find a way to stand up, and they were now desperately trying to wriggle themselves away from the staff only room and to the door.

I heard a soft clinking sound before I saw the Joker grab the two victims around their middles and growled menacingly. One of the victims froze abruptly, while the other continued to thrash and scream. It was at that moment that I realized that one of the victims was a female. I hadn't noticed before, because he hair had been haphazardly shaved and cut, so that her head was reduced to nothing more than uneven furry patches.

In fact, now that I look more closely, both of the victims were women. One was a brunette and the other _used _to be a red headed. Currently, the brunette's hair was in the same state as the red head's but her face was badly bruised and looked deathly pale, but I assume that that's a normal reaction for someone who is being subjected to having a knife by their throat.

The Joker laughed as he caught the expression of the two girls. He held them even tighter and grinned when they tried to angle their bodies away from him.

"Aw," He cooed, "Is someone afraid of the big, bad Joker? Don't worry . . . I only want to _play."_ The Joker threw their bodies to the ground when he said the word "play", and laughed when they began to cry.

The Joker twirled the knife around in his hand like it was a pencil. He chuckled darkly and sauntered over to them, eyeing their bodies appreciatively.

He tutted at them disapprovingly.

"Oh girls, you only brought this upon yourselves. I thought that we had an agreement. I smuggle you into the country, and you pay me a certain amount every month. I uh, don't really get—" The Joker now stood directly above them.

"—What was so difficult for you both to understand."

"We were going to pay you!" Pleaded the redhead, avoiding the Joker's intense gaze. She spoke with a thick Greek accent, "We just needed more time! You'll get your money I promise you, just please, please don't hurt us! I'm sorry! Please! No more!"

The Joker crouched down to the floor to look at the redhead a little more closely. The Joker looked thoughtful for a bit, pretending to consider the girl's pleas before laughing and shaking his head.

The Joker kicked the red head in the gut hard, causing her to throw up violently on the floor. The Joker began to circle the two girls predatorily.

"Well if that isn't just _dandy!_" He leered sarcastically, "Now here's my problem. You see that pretty gal, standing over there with her mouth hanging open like a dead fish?"

I snapped my mouth shut as if on cue. I assumed that the Joker had completely forgotten about my presence. I didn't even register the fact that I was staring. I just couldn't pull my eyes away from the scene. If was just so horrific and fascinating, that I couldn't help myself.

The women's eyes locked on me for a second before they nodded.

"Yeah, well uh, you see, this pretty Kitty Kat, needs art supplies, but lo and behold! I'm not so sure I can uh, _afford_ to buy them for her, seeing as how I'm a few. Thousand. Dollars. Short." The Joker eyed them again with a cruel smile plastered on his face.

"Take it!" Cried the Brunette, seemingly having snapped out of whatever frightened trance that she was in, "Take it all! Get whatever you need, just go! Please! Just go! We won't tell anybody that we saw you! You can take what you want!" Tears were streaming down her face.

"Please," She whispered, "Just—GUH!"

The Joker kicked in the stomach as well, causing her to take huge gulps of air back into her lungs.

"Who told you that I would take orders from the likes of you?" The Joker seethed.

The Joker looked over his shoulder at me briefly and spoke.

"Do you think you'll be able to get everything you need for this project here in this store Kitty?" He asked me quietly.

"Um, yes. I think so yeah." It surprised me how weak my voice sounded to my own ears.

The Joker laughed, "Well! I see no reason to keep them alive then!" The Joker pulled his arm up, knife in hand, and went into position to stab the brunette.

"Wait!" I yelled.

The Joker turned his head slightly.

"I—I might need more materials in the future you know? Like, when I—I have to uh, do more projects. They'll need to be alive t—to give me what I need right?" I stammered out.

The Joker didn't move for a moment, before bringing his arm down to the girls. He took the knife, and slashed the girls' upper arms deeply, carving his name into them.

The girls screamed.

"There," he stated, "I didn't kill them. So it's up the Lord Almighty to find someone to call the Ambulance for them before they bleed to death. C'mon." The joker strode over to me and yanked me to him.

"Let's go," He growled.

"But! What about the materi—"

"I took care of it." Was all he said.

I looked back to see the girls holding each other's hands and yelling at the top of their lungs, trying to get someone to hear them.

Before I knew it, the Joker had pushed me out the door, and into the waiting limousine outside. The vehicle had pulled out of the lot before I could fully register what was happening.

"Jensen!" Called the Joker.

"Yes sir?" Replied a voice coming from a speaker,

"Call the Police for those two miserable little shits,"

"Right away sir."

The Joker looked up at the ceiling, before glaring at me.

"Don't ever fucking try that ever again you hear?" The Joker growled darkly.

I nodded.

The car ride back to the warehouse passed in a tense silence, and I was left to my own complicated thoughts.

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"So um, uh, how long do you uh, plan to just . . . stare at me?" The Joker leered with a smile, snapping me out of my intense fixed gaze on his face.

The Joker shrugged back in the chair he was sitting on, and casually put his arms above his head, stretching out his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, and closing his eyes.

"Ahh!" I wailed reflexively when I saw that he'd moved once again.

The Joker popped one eye open and sighed.

"What is it now?" He grumbled.

I fingered the mechanical pencil in my hands nervously and twitched my nose.

"Can you . . . try not to move so much? It's just I need to have you—"

The Joker opened both his eyes and stared at me meaningfully. I glanced at him for a moment, not really meeting his eyes, before sighing.

"Or you could just stay in that position. . ." I muttered. Quickly, I grabbed my "For Big Mistakes" eraser and erased the light sketching I had previously done.

I grabbed my highly expensive new sketching pencil, and quickly went to work.

The Joker had given me my own room in the "Camo Warehouse" (As I now call it) filled with all the materials I would ever need to do anything artistic. And I mean ANYTHING. I had whole sections dedicated to different art forms; everything except dance. Currently, I was in the far corner of the room, away from the door, sitting on an extremely comfortable velvet stool, facing a very large easel, surrounded by all sorts of drawing, shading, sketching, painting, coloring, materials.

The Joker sat far away from me, in the only part of the room not occupied with anything artistic. Usually, in this situation, I'd be internally flipping out with happiness, but seeing as how everything art-related that I now own is 100% _stolen_ merchandise, my fun has been a little bit spoiled.

The Joker, thankfully, remained in his new casual position long enough for me to sketch his basic outline. I knew that I could fill in every single detail perfectly while blindfolded due to the sheer amount of time I had spent in the past just _watching_ him, but he absolutely didn't need to know that.

The Joker began to cackle wildly. "Oh kitty, what I wouldn't give to see into that private little mind of yours . . ." The Joker licked his lips, "I bet I'd uh, like. What. I. Saw."

The Joker looked as if he was getting ready to move, so I played along, effectively stopping him.

I smiled a bit. "You know what? You might actually enjoy searching through my mind. I'm very fascinated by the creepy, the strange, the genetically mutilated, the psychopathic conspiracies," The Joker hummed appreciatively.

I gave him a shy look, "The clinically insane . . ."

The Joker chuckled deeply. "Sweet little girls don't play with fire, Kitty. . ."

I wasn't playing with fire anymore, I was dancing in it. Bathing, playing golf, sleeping in it, on it, around it, and all about it. It was everywhere and I'd abandoned all thoughts of escaping it long, long ago.

I only gave the Joker a small smile in response.

"_If only he knew . . . "_

The Joker let out a long frustrated groan. "I'm getting cramps," He moaned mockingly, "Kitty . . . Are you done yet? I. Am. Un-com-fy."

The Joker licked his lips and opened his eyes, lifting his head slightly, taking care not to shift too much from his current position.

I ignored him, not really knowing what I could possibly say that would console him whatsoever. It just so happened that I was not, in any way shape or form even _close_ to being _almost_ _partially _done. It's not that drawing the Joker was too intricate for me; it's just that attempting to capture the exact details of the Joker's attire, as well as add the correct light shading and painting, then perhaps airbrushing as well as my typical last minute additions . . .

"Ay! Kat! Are you deaf or did I not make myself clear? I'm bored. Do something about it."

I sighed internally and set my mind to multitask mode.

"Um . . ." I began eloquently, "Well, We could talk about our lives—"

"BORING! There's nothing to talk about. Mine sucked. And I'm too bored to pretend to care about yours."

I tried not to convey that his comment had affected me. Hiding my true feelings has become increasingly easier for me over time. Almost, in fact, to the point where I forgot those feelings entirely.

"Well Mister J," The Joker's nose twitched when I called him that, "I don't really have any other ideas. I mean, unless you wanna talk about the weather or something," I babbled on, "Which considering, actually is pretty nice for this time of—"

"So I'm gonna stop you right there before you _actually_ try and engage me in a conversation about the _weather." _The Joker sneered at me.

"I might seriously _die_ from the strain of attempting to pay attention during THAT fun little convo."

The Joker chuckled lightly when he caught a glimpse of my ever so constant blush.

"I have an idea . . .," the Joker said, stopping me before I could open my mouth to defend myself. "Why don't we play Monopoly!"

When I didn't respond, he opened his eyes slightly and contemplated the close to horrified look on my face. He shut his eyes and chuckled quietly.

"Not a monopoly fan? Well how about charades?"

I said nothing.

"Scrabble?"

Still nothing.

"C'mon Kat, don't be such a downer." The Joker pleaded exasperatedly, "Let's play a game!"

I only looked up at him briefly.

The Joker sighed angrily. "Fine then. Be that way you ingrate."

"How do you propose I play a game while simultaneously doing my art project?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

The Joker's eyes snapped to me quickly.

"Are you insinuating that I'm some sort of idiot? I assumed that you would understand that I meant that you should probably take a break!" The Joker yelled, sounding a bit overly defensive, "I didn't say 'Hey Kat. Come over here and draw while we play Candyland. While you're at it go make us some lunch like you're some fucking Houdini.'"

"No, no." I amended quietly, "I was merely asking you a legit question. There was no sarcasm involved I promise."

I put down my pencil and stared at him dead-on. "Know this. I do not, will not, and will never, think of you as an idiot. You are probably one of the most clever, intelligent men I have ever come across in my entire _twenty-three _years of living. You've done things that baffle the entire world. You're not, in any way shape or form an idiot."

And with that, I picked up my pencil, and inserted the final detail-sketches that I required.

I could feel the Joker's eyes burning a hole in the back of my skull, penetrating deep and making it almost impossible to ignore. _  
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"Here's a question. Why did you call me Mister J earlier? The Fuck was that all about? Where'd you get that one from?" He asked, sounding a bit amused.

I cleared my throat a bit, giving myself a moment to think about his question. Honestly, I'm not quite sure why I called the Joker Mr. J. Strangely it just kinda . . . fits . . .

I also thought of this moment as an opportunity. An opportunity to get to know the way he thinks. I looked up at him.

I took a deep breath. "I'll answer your question . . . if you answer my question."

The Joker tilted his head curiously and frowned slightly. I didn't take my eyes off him, and I held my breath, hoping for the best.

The Joker turned his head away slightly and I noticed that he shook with the quiet chuckles that wracked his body.

"Ahh, Kitty." The Joker sighed happily, "You see, this is why I like you. You never learn. Are you telling me, that you're gonna make _another_ deal with the devil?"

I swallowed hard.

"I—"

"You're also treading on dangerously thin ice by being so, uh, bold,"

The Joker licked his lips menacingly. "I could kill you right now. In this very room. In that very spot. At this very second."

I didn't respond.

The Joker lifted his eyebrow. "Tell me, uh, Kit Kat," The Joker purred, "One reason why I should continue to let you live."

He stared at me intensely, making the ability to speak increasingly difficult for me. Finally, I gathered my words.

"I don't have one," I answered in a tiny voice. All sketching long forgotten.

"What?"

"I—I said that I don't have a reason." I replied with a slightly stronger voice.

The Joker stared at me for a long time, not blinking, not moving, just thinking.

He suddenly shook his head, and broke out into a grin.

"Alright," He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Ask ol' Mister J your question."

I tried not to look at him, as his gaze was so penetrating and intense, that my mind faltered for a moment, as I tried to formulate a competent sentence. That when the weight of his words finally settled in.

He was going to let me ask him something.

"Granted, he could still choose to ignore the question. Or not answer it. Or worse; respond with a riddle," I thought morosely.

I picked up my palette and my paints, and began mixing the colors. The distraction of doing something I love usually calms me down.

I inhaled deeply, and focused on phrasing my question accurately. I want to be clear and precise. No wavering, no stuttering, and absolutely no discomfort.

"Remember when you sent me to get one of the hostages? You know that Italian mafia boss guy?" God, what a perfect time to forget names.

The Joker raised a single eyebrow questioningly.

"Ok well, you remember you gave me a paper?"

The Joker tilted his head towards me, and I took this as an affirmation.

"The paper was a list of instructions that instructed me to follow, and given the definite consequences if not applied properly, I made sure to follow each word to the letter."

"What?" The Joker chuckled, finally speaking up, "You want a cookie or something? Oatmeal raisin?"

I shook my head and chuckled nervously, "No Joker, the point I was trying to make was that there was one thing on the list that perplexed me. It was number six, and it said something like, 'If you're still looking at this, then you've already failed'? What did you mean by that? How did I fail?"

"AHA!"

I blinked in surprise.

"You lied little Kitty."

"Wait, what? How did I lie? I didn't—"

"You said you had 'a' question to ask me. You asked me two questions. So now I'm a little uh, confused. Which one do you want? Me. To. Answer?"

I blanched a bit. God, he scared me a little. I am in possession of an extensive knowledge about the Joker's aversion to . . . liars . . .

I gathered my courage, looked at his closed eyes dead—on and repeated, "How did I fail?"

The Joker didn't speak for a few beats, most likely contemplating his reply.

He turned to me.

"How does anyone ever fail Katty Baby, hmm? Ever thought of that one? What exactly does it uh, mean . . . to fail? Last I checked, there are very many ways to do so . . . "

"Of course he wouldn't give me a strait answer," I thought irritated, "That would be way too much to ask for."

The Joker shifted a bit when he caught the look on my face and rolled his in amusement.

"Think Kitty. I'm a man of my word, don't you worry," The Joker shook his finger at me, "I gave you that note for you to think about."

I gave him a sour look.

He sighed, beginning to get annoyed.

"What exactly were you doing when you read the note Kat? Hmm? Start with that. You're a smart girl. I don't wanna hear shit until you figure it the fuck out." He concluded.

He was pretty quiet after that, and true to his word, if I even made the smallest of squeaks, he would open a single eye just to shoot me a dirty look, before leaving me back to my thoughts.

This guy.

Seriously though. I'm glad he thinks I'm smart, that statement alone already leads me to believe that he holds me in some for of respect. But not much I guess, because his incredible vagueness is readily grinding heavily on my nerves . . .

Reluctantly, I observed my artwork, trying to get an angle on it. I usually have a plan for things I want to draw. I always see it in my head and just make the picture come to life on paper. But strangely enough, it's just not happening that way. It almost appears to be just forming on it's own, without requiring any pre—thought or strategy whatsoever.

As I repeatedly lifted the paintbrush softly up and down the canvas, stippling the paint in certain areas, and switching the brushes for certain jobs, the task at hand felt relatively easy—natural in a way. Like I didn't even need to look at anything to know what I was doing.

I was just following my instincts and letting the picture finish itself.

My ministrations continued for a few more moments, before my mind connected the dots.

I squealed excitedly before I could stop myself, and the Joker peered over at me casually, with only a single brow raised, before bursting into hysterics.

"Oh, Kit . . . KitKitKit, your wonders never cease to amaze me. In fact, they just. Keep. Coming," He choked out.

My typical response initially was of course to blush.

I cleared my throat, in an attempt to get his attention. He glanced over at me.

"Uh, yes dear?" He said with a smile, trying to throw me off.

"I think I have it now."

"Good job."

"I think you wanted me to just use my instincts at that point. You didn't want me to have to look at the paper to know what to do right? You wanted me to act."

"Act upon what?" He asked, grinning.

"It doesn't matter what!" I concluded happily.

The Joker began a slow clap and rolled his eyes whimsically.

"Took you long enough," He sighed, as if he believed me to be a hopeless cause, "I was beginning to have a brain aneurism sitting in that same position, bored out of my mind, waiting to you to finish taking your sweet ass time thinking, while you languidly paint on that hunk of wood over there."

I didn't know how to respond to that last comment, so I opted not to.

Instead, the Joker's words had me looking down at the canvas curiously, and to my immense surprise, somewhere in the duration of my sudden insight, I had finished my first piece.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, a little shocked, "Well Mr. J, looks like you can uh, just, move I guess, whenever,"

The Joker inhaled deeply and stretched his arms over his head, cracking various body parts and stretching his constricted muscles with multiple groans of pleasure.

Not surprisingly, his loud noises were accompanied in my brain with explicit images and vivid fantasies that might definitely entice the Joker to making more those noises.

I rolled my eyes at myself. "God I need to get laid," I muttered.

"Oooh? What's this? A request for sex I hear coming from my little sweet, innocent Kitty Kat?" The Joker purred, his body hovering above my canvas.

In my lustful fantasy haze, I hadn't realized that he'd had the time to finish stretching and get that close to me. Shit, I didn't even know I'd spoken ALOUD!

I could only gape at him as a result of extreme mortification.

"Well Katty, baby, I'm sure you have a bit of a, um, _tight_ schedule of the moment . . . but I'll see if I could uh, squeeze in a moment or two . . .

Shit. ShitShitShit. There was no way we could release all this sexual tension in 'a moment or two'. I know it'd at least be a few _days _before I saw sunlight again if I decided to let him do this now. And I just didn't have that kind of time.

It only took a second for me to find something to distract him with before he managed to make me change my mind.

"Your question!" I blurted out, my voice about three pitches higher than normal. He paused, and tilted his head slightly.

"My question." He repeated.

"Yeah! You know! Remember? Your question? The one that you had for me? The one you wanted to ask? That question?"

I watched the Joker's eyes as he sobered up a bit, that familiar smile slowly returning to his face.

"Ah yes, the question. I recall it being something along the lines of a name that you had recently decided to call me?" The Joker licked his lips, "I kinda like the ring to it. Mr. J huh? How'd you figure that one?"

I stared up at him blankly in response. Honestly, I had no idea where the name derived from, it just fell out of my mouth before I could stop it and there was no explanation for that.

"The only person," Joker continued, "Who's ever dared refer to me with a name other than Joker, was my _mother._ And she's been, uh, dead . . . for ten years."

I quickly opened my mouth to apologize but he quieted me with a hand.

"It was simply her time, Kitty. She was a crusty old bitch. There's nothing to say." He simply shrugged and kept smiling.

"So tell me," The Joker said, leaning down closer to my face, "Why?"

I inhaled his scent for a moment, basking in his close proximity.

"I—I just . . . wanted to . . ." I replied meekly.

He frowned at me suspiciously. "You just . . . wanted to call me names?"

"No! No!" I cried, my voice all panicky. I shut my eyes and took another breath, "No," I said clearly, with a calmer voice.

I sighed a bit and looked directly into the Joker's dark eyes.

"I wasn't 'calling you names', I just gave you a nickname. And before you ask, I don't know why. I just wanted to—I thought you wouldn't mind it."

The Joker straitened up a bit and scratched his chin in thought. After a long pause, he nodded his head thoughtfully, and gave me one of his prize-winning shark grins.

"Well, Kitty, I like it. It's has a little, uh, _ring_ to it. Mr. J. Sounds official dontcha think?" He looked to me for assurance.

"PSH! Oh yeah!" I agreed enthusiastically, internally breathing a sigh of relief.

The Joker peered over me and observed my completed painting for the first time. He quirked an eyebrow and curled the corners of his lips. He kept glancing at me while viewing the artwork, before his eyes just settled on just staring at the painting.

"I Look fucking sexy," He commented finally, still grinning.

Then he stood up, turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"So good. You're done. Now I can get some fucking slee—"

"Wait!" I called, stopping him before he opened the door, "That was just the first piece! I still need you for the other three!"

The Joker literally growled and spun around angrily striding quickly to his little chair. He sat down hard and crossed his arms childishly.

I looked over at him cautiously. He was glaring at the floor.

"So uh, should I have a goon get us some coffee or—"

The Joker directed his glare to my face.

"Right." I amended quickly. Stupid question.

Wasting no time at all, I jumped up from my chair, sent the Joker an apologetic glance, and ran out of the room in search of coffee, closing the door behind me.

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**There you have it folks! Next chapter's due by it's usual time in two weeks! See you then!**

**Reviews welcome!**

**-SongsThatSerenade7  
**


	6. Living

_A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the late update, but it was finals week last week so . . . anyways, no excuses, here's your story, also, I'd like to thank my reviewers for saying such kind things about the story_! _You guys are great! :D

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_**CHAPTER 6**

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My right hand visibly shook as I worked. There wasn't a force on the planet strong enough to prevent me from doing this. I felt my eyes tear up slightly, and I sniffled as the weight of the situation finally settled in. Exhaustion overpowered all common sense, and eventually, the paintbrush simply dropped from my hand, clinking to the floor when it hit. The clock read 2:47 AM. I smiled.

I am finished.

I am done. I did it. It's complete.

And most importantly, it's _on time._ Oh, you heard me right. Katherine Harleen Quinzel has completed an art project, and she made the deadline.

"Oh fuck," The Joker moaned obnoxiously on the other side of the room, visibly trying his hardest not to move, "I swear to baby Jesus if I have to spend one more _half of a second_ sitting in this pose I'm gonna fucking—"

"I-I'm done."

The Joker's head spun around so fast I almost flinched. His eyes were wild with barely contained exuberance, and his face appeared to be screaming with the urge to grin like an idiot.

The Joker licked his lips voraciously eyeing me with something malicious and a bit insane.

He scrunched his eyes up and began to breath raggedly. His body began to shake, the sound of his chuckling filling the room.

"Don't fuck with me Kitty," He whispered in a deadly voice, "We're done? No more posing, no more cramps . . . it's finished?"

I felt my body uncoiling as the stress of the past few days evaporated languidly. With each passing second though, I grew more and more exhausted.

It took me almost all of the four days I had to complete all my projects. Over seventy-two _hours _of an annoyed, tired Joker, twenty-three cups of coffee, five minutes to brush our teeth and wash our faces, ten bathroom breaks, only 45 minutes for food, no showers, and absolutely _no_ sleep.

I could do nothing but nod my head as the giddiness crept up on me, a smile broke out on my face, and I had to repress the light tingling in my stomach that told me that I was going to begin jumping up and down and squealing at any moment.

The Joker beat me to it.

"AGH! Fucking _finally_! Thank fucking Allah! Shit!" The Joker stood up quickly, ran across the room dodging all the scattered art supplies on the ground, and practically flung himself on the bed that hadn't been used for several days.

As soon as his body hit the mattress he let out a long, loud, uninhibited groan of content and flipped over onto his back with one arm draped across his chest, and the other placed over his face.

I could see his body releasing all of the tension of the past few days. The Joker hummed softly and a smile stretched across his features.

Through my pleasant triumphant haze, I took this time to admire his form a little bit, and even though he was still wearing his signature green vest and purple jacket, his green hair prominent again his pale face, his black and white make-up cracking in a lot of places, his lipstick's color fading slightly, I found him at that moment to be extremely powerful and imperious.

"Kitty. You gonna join me, or just keep on blatantly staring? I don't mind either way, but I'd suggest you uh," The Joker licked his lips, "Close your mouth before you catch. Some. _Flies."_

My mouth snapped shut audibly and my face heated up with embarrassment at his observations. I eyed the bed wearily even though my body was practically crying out for some sleep. After a few moments of contemplation, I gave in to my desire, stood up, and walked over to the bed.

My legs felt strange after almost three days of immobility. I wobbled and almost tripped a few times, but I still made it without any overly embarrassing tumbles.

I climbed onto the bed and slid my body up on the right side of the Joker. Once I reached the pillows, it felt like all my strength had just been erased from me, and then I too collapsed onto the soft mattress.

My eyes got heavier with each passing second, but before I succumbed to the seductive pull of sleep, I felt a heavy arm drape across my torso, and I heard the Joker's breath beside my face.

I smiled to myself a bit, not realizing that we were on a King-sized bed, and that there were eons of space. I deemed that delightful snippet of information trivial.

* * *

I woke up to the Joker poking me in the ribs and looming over my curled up body.

I opened my eyes groggily, and immediately closed them again.

The Joker poked me harder.

I groaned at him, and turned over slightly. "What is it?" I moaned sleepily.

"Didn't you have an art party or something to go to?"

My eyes snapped open.

I sat strait up in the bed, and spun my head around to face the Joker—terror evident my face.

"What time is it?" I demanded.

The Joker tilted his head in thought, "Uh, last time I checked, it was about 7:30-"

"Oh thank God," I breathed in relief.

"—P.M., and it's Saturday," The Joker finished.

I froze. "Wait. Saturday?" I thought, his words not quite settling in. His curious silence confirmed my suspicions.

"Saturday is the art show," I informed him, my brain not quite fully functioning yet.

Horror began to creep up on my face, "Today is Saturday," I monotoned.

The Joker made a face as he realized what that meant. "What time's the uh . . . show?"

"Eight." I replied weakly.

I closed my eyes as if I were in physical pain.

"Nooooooo," I moaned, my voice dead and defeated. I'd slept for the art show is at eight in downtown Gotham city. Even if we drove there right at this very second, we'd still be about thirty minutes late to the event, and chances are that I'd be prevented from even entering the establishment due to the way I was dressed.

I sighed heavily and fell back onto the mattress. "Well there goes my career," I muttered, my voice devoid of all emotion.

I hoped to God that the Joker left before I began to cry unconsciously.

"That's it?" The Joker asked dubiously.

I glanced at him and didn't respond.

"Don't you have to leave?" He asked me.

"There's no way I'd make it there on time," I deadpanned. The Joker frowned at me.

"How the fuck do you figure that one? I could just have a goon drive you over there and—"

"The studio's located downtown,"

"So?" The Joker replied, as if my reasoning was incredibly stupid, "Is that supposed to stop you?"

"Joker," I said wearily, "I'd never make it in time, just forget it, it doesn't matter anymore—"

In one swift move, the Joker grabbed me by my shoulders hoisted my body up, shoving it off of the bed and onto the ground hard. I landed roughly on my tailbone and thrashed a little in pain.

I looked up to see him already picking up my three finished art projects and shoving them under his armpit. In four long strides he crossed to the other side of the room to the door. The Joker stopped and looked down at me.

"Well? Get up. Let's go." The Joker ordered.

I gaped at him, "Wha—But!" I began to protest.

The Joker didn't let me finish. Instead, he put down my artwork, bent down, grabbed me around the waist, and pulled me flush against his body leaving me with absolutely no choice but to look at him.

"Now you listen carefully Katty girl, I didn't spend almost four days standing completely still, drinking coffee by the fucking barrel full, having to resist the urge to fuck you senseless almost every _single _second, and, you know, breaking my back to, a um uh, _help-you_ . . ." The Joker licked his lips, "Just to have you bitch out at the very. Last. Moment,"

The Joker tilted his head and grinned evilly, "You wanna give up?" The Joker laughed maniacally, "Well tough cookies little Kitty Kat. I _know_ that deep down inside you really want. This."

The Joker shook me and pulled me even closer.

The Joker leaned his face down so close to mine, "And when you_ really_ want something Kitty," The Joker's breath became ragged as him eyes devoured me, "_You. Take. It._"

My eyes were wide with anticipation—The Joker looked as if he was either about to slice my throat, or fling me back on the bed and have his wicked way with me right then and there.

The Joker's eye twitched and suddenly, we were separated. The Joker snuck one more glance before bending down to pick up my art again, and then motioning for the door.

I finally found my voice, "I don't have anything to wear! And my hair! They won't let me in if I—"

The Joker turned around and gave me the biggest grin I've seen so far.

"Something tells me that they won't have many options but to let you in," He informed me mysteriously. The Joker then swiveled around, and opened the door.

"Let's go Katty," The Joker licked his lips and grinned.

"I'm driving."

* * *

* * *

Joker drove like a madman.

We were currently speeding down the streets of Gotham, swerving dangerously around traffic, running through red lights, and barely avoiding old ladies crossing the street by mere inches.

I didn't realize I had been praying for my life until the Joker decided to try and limit our obstacles by turning into the _wrong side of the road,_ and just barely dodging cars that appeared to be constantly in danger of head-on colliding with us.

We must have been the cause of about thirty accidents in the streets! It's a wonder that the police haven't done anything yet. Then again, maybe they've tried, but can't reach us because we're driving so _FUCKING FAST!_

"Joker," I pleaded, my voice almost lost by sounds of the roaring engine in the car.

"We really need to slow down! You're going to kill us!"

"Don't be such a scaredy Kat! We're making wonderful time! At this rate, you'll be at your Soup do la Floor in no time!" He took his eyes off the road briefly to grin wickedly at me.

I shrieked when we very nearly crashed into another parked car.

"Well yeah!" I yelled, "But time's not really going to be such a prominent factor if we're _dead!"_

"Would you rather we be late?"

I thought about that for a second and sighed in resignation. My priorities really do surprise me sometimes.

"Okay, fine." I relented, "But can't you drive a just little more responsibly? Just a little?"

The Joker threw his head back and laughed. "But look at all the fun we're having Kitty! Responsibility is for old geezers who can't get their dicks up! This is life we're living right now baby! Be alive! Life is nothing without danger! Nothing at all!"

The Joker cackled wildly and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He licked his lips as if he were trying to taste the adrenaline coursing through his body.

Even though I was terrified beyond belief, I was still capable of registering his words and seeing that what he was saying held a lot of truth to it. He looked very much so alive right now as he sped down the streets, laughing death right in the face with all the cars he missed.

'This is his element,' I realized, but not at all surprised by this revelation.

So, in spite of my growing anxiousness over my safety (or lack or thereof) in this 67' Cadillac with the infamous Joker behind the wheel, I closed my eyes and just lived.

I didn't get to experience life for that long though. A minute later the Cadillac screeched to a stop right in front of the Coup de la Fleur art studio.

My eyes snapped open and I practically threw myself out of the car, scrambling to catch my footing while simultaneously running up the walkway as fast as I could.

Above the entrance was a flamboyantly colorful sign describing the event-taking place inside. From the outside, the building looked small and cramped, but when one looked through the glass doors, you could see the incredible amount of space. The atmosphere of the studio was supposed to be welcoming and warm. A large group of people stood outside, waiting for entrance, and right by the doors to the studio, were a pair of large, burly looking men wearing glasses and suits with walkie-talkies attached to their hips.

I pushed through the crowd roughly, quickly saying apologies to the people I pushed until I finally reached the guards. Without any preamble, I walked right past them, and to the doors.

Before my hand could reach the handle, a large, hairy tanned arm halted me.

"You are not allowed in right now." The burly man to the right of me said.

"It's fine-I'm one of the artists who's artwork is supposed to be in the gallery," I informed them calmly, highly aware of my lack of time.

The other burly man scoffed and nudged the other guard. "Yeah right. Rob, tell her how many times we've heard that today."

"Twelve times."

"Thirteen times," The man corrected, gesturing to me.

"No. You don't understand. I'm really one of the artists! Jeffrey wanted my work in the gallery, I swear! He gave me the assignment three weeks ago! Let me inside and I'll prove it to you, I don't have much time!" I looked around, hoping to find a clock that would tell me how much time I (don't) have to make this Art show.

Sure enough, I spotted a clock inside the gallery, and to my magnificent horror, it read 7:54 P.M.

I blanched. I only had six minutes to get inside, unpack my art, and place it on the wall before people started coming in and these ignorant assholes were getting in the way of that!

"Ma'am. You have to understand; you're giving us absolutely no impression of an artist whose work is good enough to be shown in this gallery. I mean, you're not even dressed up!" The guard gestured to my casual red tank top, and my short, black, velvety empire-waist skirt. He then quickly glanced at my mismatched sandals which I had thrown on quickly in the midst of my frantic rushing, and, of course, my rat's nest for hair.

I could see their point, I looked more like a dressed up hobo off the street then a respected artist.

The clock read 7:56 P.M.

I gave them my most desperate look. "Sirs, you look like respectable young gentleman, so I really must ask you to relent just this one time for me. I swear to God I'm supposed to be here, and if you just call Jeffrey Parkins out here, he'll tell you himself. _Please!" _

I don't know if it was the way I looked at them, or the raw desperation in my voice, but they both shared a look and the burly man to my right pulled out his walkie.

"Uh, Parkins, we need you out here."

There was a lot of static, before an angry voice that undeniably belonged to Jeffrey, yelled something intelligible back.

"I know boss, but there's a girl outside here named . . ."

The Burly man gave me a meaningful look.

"Katherine Quinzel," I supplied.

"Katherine Quinzel,"

There was a pause and all we heard was static, before the voice returned, even angrier this time, and the burly man had to hold the phone away from his ear slightly, so that he wouldn't be rendered deaf.

"Oh. Okay . . . yeah . . . yeah . . . I understand it's a . . . yes, I'll tell her . . . all right sure . . ." The man shut his phone, and turned to me.

"He said he'd be out in a second,"

Sure enough, about a second later, Jeffrey Parkins came barreling towards us with the biggest bitch-face I'd ever seen on him. He looked positively _livid._

He shoved the doors open on contact, nearly smashing the burly men's heads with the glass. Jeffrey face resembled that of a ripe tomato, and it began to grow a bit purple too.

"Where. The. Hell. Have. You. BEEN? You're late!" He exploded, "You are unbelievably late! Where were you for the past MONTH! I've been calling you relentlessly, but you haven't picked up once! I swear to god, don't you dare give me any shit right now! I am about three seconds from calling off the whole thing, and running your name through the dirt in this city! So help me you better not—"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you're right, I know. My phone broke a while back and I'd been too busy to replace it and I'm sorry," I amended quickly, seeing Jeffrey's flaming face slowly return to it's natural shade as my words pacified him.

"But listen," I continued, "I really need to get my work in here, I don't think we have much time, so please, let your guards let me in, and try and delay the event a minute or two, _please._"

Jeffrey hadn't completely calmed down by the end of my little apology speech, but he appeared seemingly surprised at my noble words. I couldn't really blame the guy, 'cause every time we talk, it's like two cats fighting over raw of salmon; we just DO NOT get along _at all_. I didn't expect to apologize as much, as he wasn't prepared to hear it.

"Fine,"

He pushed the doors open for me, but then stopped abruptly. He gave me a quick once over, and frowned deeply.

"What the fuck are you wearing? This isn't Denny's or some shit! This is an event for formal wear! And you don't even have a date!" He exclaimed, seemingly aghast.

I straitened up indignantly, "I know I look like shit, but are you really bitching at me about not having a date? You've never mentioned that!"

"Well, maybe if you had bothered to read any of the texts, or e-mails I sent you explaining everything, you'd be singing a different song."

"But—!"

A strong arm circled around my waist and pulled me against a hard body.

"I'm terribly sorry, _honey. _I hope I'm not too, uh, late."

My eyes doubled in size at the sound of his voice. Terrified that people would start screaming once they knew who he was, I turned around and peered at him cautiously.

My eyes widened even further. In front of me, was not the Joker, but an entirely different man completely. All of the Joker's make-up was washed of, his hair devoid of all the green—only a sleek dark brown remained, and it was slicked back tightly against his skull. He wore a very expensive-looking black suit with a green and purple polka dotted bow around his neck. His lips still looked a bit stained from the lipstick, giving him an overall vampiric look. Apparently, he was wearing a ton of concealer, because his scars appeared fainter against his skin at the moment.

He looked like the perfect gentleman and dream date.

The Joker winked at me and offered me his arm. "Let's enter now shall we?"

I nodded and took it as a result of my stunned silence. Jeffrey stood gaping at the Joker in amazement, making me wonder if he plays for the other team or something. I internally shrugged. He glanced at me, and then quickly fumbled to let us inside the building.

I gave one last incredulous look to the Joker, took a deep breath, and entered the gallery.

* * *

* * *

Oh, God, I _really _hate people_,"_ I thought angrily to myself, having been subjected to about a million people stopping to react to my work in about a hundred different ways—all of them not very positive.

"You know, the creative ambience in this studio is simply _amazing!" _Said a random, well-dressed old woman approaching my art unintentionally, "I really do wonder how someone would manage such a—AAAGH~!"

The woman's face was scrunched up in absolute horror and mortification for me as I stood by my work. She saw nothing but the face of the Joker, and her skin became increasingly pale with each passing second her eyes rested on it.

She saw the Joker's body, in all of my paintings, coiled up in a powerful, imperious stance, eyeing his human prey like a Jaguar. He was sleek, but undeniably graceful, and it was terrifying . . .

"AGH~! Young Man!" The woman exclaimed to the Joker, who seemed highly amused by the entire fiasco, "What in the world drove you to paint something as disgusting as this? Why, you need to—"

"I painted it," I cut in sharply.

The woman waved me off without even hearing me, which only ended up pissing me off further.

"Yes, yes of course young lady, but sir! How did you even manage to portray the Joker the way you did? Not many people get to see that hideous face, and even when they do, I'm sure they'd scrunch their faces up and shy away from such an evil entity—"

"My dame," The Joker interrupted with a calculating grin, "Not that your uh, train of thought wasn't . . . enlightening or anything, but I'm sure my date is trying to tell you that it was her who painted the work you are so evidently fond of."

The woman's head whipped around; at the same time her eyes fell upon my face, hair, clothing, and blue and red mismatched sandals. At the sight of me, her eyes filled up with tears of pity.

The woman suddenly flung herself all over me.

"Oh you poor, poor dear! You must've been a victim of that Sadistic man you painted up there. How dreadful, I am so sorry!" She was bawling all over my bare shoulder at this point and I had to make a conscious effort not to verbally annihilate her at this very second.

She suddenly looked up, and took my face in her hands, scanning my expression for any signs of remorse, regret, sadness, defeat, you know, all that good stuff.

I carefully pried her hands off of me, and gave her the best smile I could manage without alerting her as to my true feelings.

I clasped my hands back together slowly once she was a safe distance away from my person, and stood up as strait as I could.

"No, I _was not_ victimized by that man," I pronounced very carefully, "I had just been incredibly fascinated with his character for quite a while now _ma'am. _So please refrain from criticizing it so brutally-if you don't like the art, you're welcome to walk away at absolutely any moment."

I then gave her a smile that clearly said, 'That's your queue to leave now'. I sent that look with all the intensity I could muster and I tried my hardest to project really bad vibes.

The woman opened and closed her mouth imitating a fish before stomping her foot on the floor indignantly and huffing away angrily.

I sighed in disdain. I probably would've handled that situation a bit more smoothly if it hadn't been about the fifth time that's happened in the last forty-five minutes! This event is _four hours long, _and already I'm prepared to rip my hair out from the scalp!

I growled lightly, crossed my arms unconsciously, and settled into one of the best bitch-faces I make whenever I'm angry.

I sighed heavily.

The Joker heard me, and tilted his head down in my direction.

"You know," He began, "I've added qui-te a few people to my shit-list in the past hour. I don't even know how I'll get to uh, _all _of them . . ."

The Joker smirked down at me.

"I had no idea that my face was so . . . iconic . . . how lovely for me," The Joker chuckled lightly, and turned his eyes to see if I was at least smiling.

I wasn't. Today had been a disaster, Jeffrey had bitten off my head once I took my painting s inside, and as soon as they were up on the wall, assholes kept making snide comments about it.

But that wasn't the most frustrating part at all. The worst part, was that everyone automatically assumed that Mr. J over there was the artist for my work, and that I was some sort of last minute hooker that he'd picked up off the street.

Not only that, but the Joker was dressed so amazingly today, and here I was, making him look bad. He could have any other woman in the room! They'd been eyeing him up down, backwards and sideways as soon as they'd laid eyes on him.

It's really not fair.

How the hell did he even manage to get himself all dolled up like that in the span of like, _five_ minutes? It's not like there was a team of makeover people hidden in the trunk of the Cadillac, so the idea of him completely renovating himself so quickly, and so well, when I couldn't even manage to brush my hair properly, rooted me in a very deep state of desolation.

The Joker noticed that he'd caught the eye of another admirer, and gave the girl a shark-like grin. He looked over at me to gauge my reaction, but I was too busy self-pitying myself to catch the interaction.

The joker tisk-ed in annoyance.

"Huh, Kitty, why're you the only one in this room that hasn't tried to eye-fuck me yet? Do you, uh, not find me . . . ap-pealing?"

The Joker sounded incredibly indifferent, and I'd like to believe that he secretly cared about my opinion, but I didn't want to begin _lying _to myself so pathetically. But I saw him. Oh boy, did I see him.

"No," I replied softly, trying not to blush, "You look quite dashing, don't worry,"

"Then what's with the long face?"

"Oh it's—"

"Katherine! What the fuck!" Jeffrey Parkins came barreling down the hallway like a freight train, and stopped right in front of me.

"I told you. I told you that you couldn't put this—this—this atrocity, in my studio! I received so many complaints in the past _hour_ I don't even know where to start—"

"Then why to you skip right to the finish?" The Joker cut in for me, "Obviously, now's not exactly the time for you to be bitching off to this girl now is it?"

The Joker leaned down, using his height to his advantage, and got right in Jeffrey's face.

"Why don't you run along, take your purple fucking nose and shove it up someone else's ass for a change, hmm?" He growled.

Jeffrey spluttered for a moment, before regaining his composure, and getting even angrier.

Jeffrey jabbed his thumb at the Joker and turned to me.

"Who is this guy?" He questioned angrily.

"His name's Mister J," I replied, highly amused by this event.

Jeffrey puffed up his chest, turned towards the Joker, and jabbed his finger in the Joker's chest. The Joker sent him a deadly warning glare.

"Well _Mis-ter Jay, _you need to watch what you say to me, or else I'll have your ugly little girlfriend painting dinner plates for the rest of her life. She won't be able to find work _anywhere_ once I'm done . . ."

I only looked at Jeffrey with pity in my eyes, the Joker and I weren't phased by that statement, we both knew that he's not gonna get to live to see tomorrow—that much is definite.

Jeffrey smiled evilly, "So why don't you apologize to me nicely? And enunciate please. I want to hear . . ." Jeffrey got closer to the Joker and poked the Joker hard with his thumb, " . . . every. Word,"

Three things happened very quickly. First, the Joker removed Jeffrey's hand from his person. Second, the Joker had Jeffrey up against the wall, pinned roughly by the collar. Third, the Joker put a knife to the man's crotch.

"Listen up, you little shit, " He growled, "I don't take very well to, uh, threats. You'll find that I can get pretty mer-cil-less when given the opportunity . . ." The Joker licked his lips, and grinned when Jeffrey began trembling.

"Here's the deal bucko. I'm going to let you go, you're going to run along, and tell all your good art buddies about how wonderful our little Kitty Kat is. You're not going to say a word about me, and you never talk like that about this girl ev-er. Again. If you do, I'll come on down to 345th street, apartment 36 third floor, and we'll have a ver-ry nice. Chat. Clear?"

"Cr-Crystal," Jeffrey choked.

"Good."

The Joker dropped Jeffrey onto his ass. The little man scrambled up, and almost sprinted out of that hallway.

Luckily, no one had been present to witness this little charade, so of course, the Joker's in the clear.

The Joker stretched out his arms and back.

"Whelp! I think you got what you needed out of this don't cha think? We don't need to stay any longer that necessary,"

I only stared at him in disbelief. He just assaulted my boss, threatened his life, stood up for me, and probably save my career, all in one go.

I nodded at him.

The Joker took my hand, placed it in the crook of his arm, and escorted me out of the building.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Hey Joker?"

"Hmm . . .?"

"Are you, uhh . . . really gonna let Jeffrey live?"

"PFFT! Ha Ha Ha ha! Oh—ha ha—wow, ha, that's a good one Kitty."

I rolled my eyes at him. Oh, that Mister J . . .

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**A/N: You know the drill! Review please! Update in about two weeks! :)**

**~Songsthatserenade7  
**


	7. Uninvited Guests

A/N: This is by far one of my favorite chapters . . . . You'll see why. ;) THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! I'll give you all shout outs in my next chapter. :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. BUT I FORBID EVERYONE FROM STEALING MY STORY.

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**CHAPTER 7**

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I sat crossed legged with my head resting on my hands on top of Joker's bed a few days after the whole "Art Show Fiasco". I was currently daydreaming about that wild man whose warehouse I just happen to inhabit in.

He just looked so amazing when he was my escort. It's not like I never see him as attractive, but when he goes into Joker mode, with his green vest and purple suit, his white face and smeared on lipstick, and dark, captivating eyes, emphasized by the dark make-up, he looks powerful, imperious, edgy, and insane.

But . . . this time, he just looked like a _man_. In every sense of the word he looked like a man. He looked strong, he was charming, he stood tall and proud, and he was almost heartbreakingly handsome.

I chuckled lightly to myself. Roxanne would be laughing her ass off if she could hear my thoughts right now.

I frowned slightly as I realized that I hadn't seen or spoken to my dearest friend in over three weeks. I tired not to think of how worried she must be right about now; it left a strange, guilty feeling in my heart.

I know there's no reason for me to feel guilty though. I was being held captive here. It's not like I could leave even if I wanted to. Which I didn't. And that's probably what's making me feel so guilty.

"SLAM!"

I shrieked and jumped up about three feet into the air when the door to my right burst open, revealing the Joker, who was carrying my food in his hand.

The joker saw my frazzled state, reared his head back and released a hearty laugh at my expense.

I took a few deep breaths with my hand over my chest before turning to glare at the laughing clown.

"Really? Was that _really_ necessary?" I huffed angrily.

The Joker threw me an amused look before falling into fits of laughter again. "Oh ab-so-lut-tely Kitty, dear. You see, In order to enter a room, one needs to first open the door—"

The Joker cut himself off, his laughter increasing in intensity.

I couldn't help but smile a bit at his little joke. I tried to see from the Joker's point of view, and got a mental image of how my face must've looked when he scared me. Soon enough, I was laughing right along with the Joker.

We laughed together for about two more seconds, before he cut me off by tossing the bag of food he was holding into my lap. I glanced down at it and sighed appreciatively. Wendy's. Good 'ol unhealthy food.

While Roxanne and I were room mating in Gotham, she used to cook all sorts of creative, delicious, and surprisingly healthy food. I haven't had junk food for two years before the Joker had kidnapped me.

The Joker saw me looking wistfully at the bag in my arms and frowned curiously.

"Kit Kat, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to _eat_ the food or something. You know?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, of course," I replied distractedly. I bit into my sandwich slowly and gave a sad smile.

The Joker frowned even deeper for a moment before his face froze, and he sighed deeply.

"Are you on your period or something?" He asked, as if disgusted by the concept.

"What?" I asked incredulously, completely sober now. "No! What in the world would bring you to ask me that?"

"You just looked really sad and stuff when you saw the bag of Wendy's, so I thought you might be bleeding out of your vagina is all," The Joker stated a bit defensively.

"I looked a bit sad, so you thought I was 'bleeding out of my vagina is all,'" I repeated, on the verge of laughing my ass off.

I snickered a bit when he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Anyways,' he began, immediately changing the subject, "Feeding you is not the main reason for my presence here. As you might know, today is a _very special_ day for Gotham. Today, _everyone's_ invited to my welcome back party! YAY!" The Joker smiled sadistically, and had an evil glint in his eye that made my eyes widen a bit.

I'd almost forgot. This glorious morning marked the day that Gotham's two years of peace will be completely thrown back into the vortex of chaos by thee man everyone thought was dead.

Even Batman. Because the Joker had been categorized as dead, all the villains figured that Batman would have had more opportunities to bust them if they tired to terrorize the city, so they laid low for all this time, and Batman had had no need to save a safe city. We haven't heard from the bat since. But now . . .

The Joker read my expression and began cackling. "I can see you thought about the results of this little shindig Kitty Kat! And don't worry; you're most certainly invited. In fact, you're going to be the manager of this little event. You see—"

The Joker turned and ignored my horror-stricken face.

"—I'll need you to be my distraction! You're playing a key role at the party!" The Joker licked his lips and gave me a dark smile overflowing with meaning, "So don't even try to escape little Kitty Kat. If you crash this party for me, I'm going to come. After. You. Get it?"

I blinked up at him and nodded slowly. The Joker smiled and clapped his hands together.

"Good! Now, what's been bothering you Kit-Kat?"

I cleared my throat, "No, uh, nothing. There was nothing wrong," He peered into my eyes and I could almost feel his gaze burning a hole in my brain.

Finally he broke eye contact and I silently exhaled.

"Alright then, let's get you ready Kitty! We leave for the party in two hours!"

* * *

* * *

"But I still don't understand why you need ME for this job!"

The Joker tried to ignore my vehement not-so-silent protests while he rode with me in the back of a grey van that blended in very well with Gotham's city buildings. We were currently speeding down the streets with a goon behind the wheel, and another holding a machine gun in the passenger seat, heading towards the very _heart_ of Gotham.

Wayne Enterprises.

Bruce Wayne owned what was probably the most crucial company that Gotham had to offer. Wayne Enterprises was not only one of the best financial sectors in America, but it was also the top ten leading high end technology providers for the United States Military forces. The building was filled with all sorts of incredible revolutionary gadgets. But unfortunately, it also contained the material to make enormously lethal weapons. Perhaps not on that massive of a scale, but it could, nonetheless, cause some major damage.

"Joker please, I swear to God I'm gonna find a way to fuck this up if you have me—"

The Joker whipped his head around and struck his arm out. I flinched away from him, sure that he was going to hit me. When I felt nothing, I looked up to see a pained look on his face, as him arm hovered in the air in the exact place that my face was just moments ago.

The Joker slowly pulled his arm back to his body and moved to sit on his hands. He was breathing deeply, and his eyes were firmly shut. He looked as if to be struggling to gain back his composure.

I didn't move a millimeter until he opened his eyes slowly and exhaled.

He looked directly into my eyes with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You're not gonna fuck this up," He whispered in a deathly quiet voice, "You wouldn't _dare_ fuck this up. I don't have much, uh,_ patience _for _failures_ little Kitty Kat,"

The Joker licked his lips and leaned in close to my face. "Now, listen, uh, carefully babe. You do your job flaw-less-ly, and you go home back home to you little lesbian lover—I mean best friend—safely. But uh, mess up . . . and she'll find your body floating peacefully down Gotham City Bay by tomorrow morning."

The Joker scrutinized my face. "Feeling . . . fishy . . . Kat-her-ine?"

I felt the beginnings of dread creep up my spine with each second he stared at me. And I knew it was a terrible moment to think so, but I couldn't help but feel entranced by the half-crazed eyes of the Joker.

I shook my head slowly back and forth, snapping both of us out of our little spell.

The clown pulled his head back rapidly and eyed me a bit suspiciously before he sighed in resignation.

"Fine, let's go over this one more time." The Joker sat himself down in front of me with his legs slightly crossed and his arms out.

"So Kitty, Again. Here's what you do . . . "

I stood in front of the grand entrance that led to the lobby of Wayne Enterprises, silently repeating the plan in my head over and over in my head so that I wouldn't forget the mission.

Supposedly, tonight was the night of Bruce Wayne's annual company bash. Every year Mr. Wayne throws these extravagant parties celebrating his company and success it's brought Gotham over the years.

I've only ever _heard _about Mr. Wayne's parties from eavesdropping on rich city folk in the stores. They raved about the high-quality entertainment, the delicious five-star gourmet food, the amazing atmosphere as well as the dining hall, and, of course, the extravagant, handsome, rich, playboy extraordinaire . . . Mr. Bruce Wayne.

Somehow, the Joker got his hands on an invitation to this party (most definitely illegally), and I was to enter under the name of Svetlana Botlina.

I stood there, wearing a deep satin blue off the shoulder, empire waist, floor-long dress which flared out around the hips, and had a very deep neckline, as well as a high slit on going up to the middle of my right thigh. I wore a long diamond necklace and matching earrings with it. My hair was done up in two elegant French braids that combined behind my head which trailed down my back, and my eyes were done in dark blue smoky make-up. I wore elbow-length white gloves and my entire body was covered in this glittery powder, which lit up my skin every time I moved in the light.

I was dressed to kill.

The Joker's stylist goon, Sloppy, was surprisingly talented if I do say so myself. I actually didn't look half bad for once!

I took a deep breath and pushed open the doors that led to the lobby. I was immediately greeted by the sounds of people idly chatting and clinking glasses. There were a few people milling around there, even though the real party was on the top floor of Wayne Enterprises. The lobby had been slightly decorated for the event, and it was filled with soft, black leather couches where some of the guests sat with their friends, laughing about something incredibly petty no doubt.

But I didn't have much time to be gaping up at the impressive scenery, and so I walked over to the elevators across the room, and hit the button for the top floor.

Just before the doors clicked shut, a hand stopped the doors, and probably one of the most handsome men I have ever seen in my entire life climbed inside the elevator with me.

He saw me looking—no—ogling at him in astonishment, and he gave me a crinkled smile.

"Hey," He greeted, his voice deep and smooth, "Thanks for holding the door."

I blushed crimson and muttered a quick apology and he just laughed. The sound was rich and charming.

"Oh, I'm just joking, I actually had to run to catch this elevator and make sure I got in with such a beautiful woman such as yourself," He gazed down at me and grinned, trying to look sheepish.

I laughed a bit, and was surprised at how feminine I sounded.

I flirted back, "Oh, so you're a charmer I see?"

"That's what people tell me,"

"I'm sure that comes in handy when trying to talk to random women in the elevator, huh?"

"Oh absolutely, I find the atmosphere inside these elevators to be quite sociable."

The man's comment caused me to laugh so hard I unconsciously covered my mouth with a hand. He grinned before he saw what I was doing.

Carefully, he reached up and took my hand away from my mouth. His gesture caused me to stop laughing. He looked down at me with his dark brown eyes, ad it was at that moment that I realized just how tall he was. He was almost as tall as the Joker.

"Don't cover up that beautiful smile. I wanna see it," He said softly.

I blinked up at him, surprised by his words before the redness crept up on my face and I turned away in embarrassment.

"_Oh Jeez,"_ I thought blushing even harder, "_What a Casanova,"_

The man chuckled deeply at my reaction. Luckily, the elevator dinged for the last time, signaling that we'd made it to the very top floor.

The doors slid open, and directly in front of me was a kind, old-looking man who stood behind a podium in front of two mahogany grand doors.

He turned to face me and smiled lightly.

"Your name Miss?" He asked politely.

"Svetlana Botlina," I replied in a perfect Russian accent.

The old man scrolled down the list with his index finger, studied it, flipped through a few more pages, and looked back again.

Once he was done, he looked up at me and gave me a pitying look.

"I'm sorry Miss, but there is not invitation under that name,"

My eyes widened in panic and I frowned, "That can't be right. Are you _absolutely_ sure? Can you check again?"

The Man gave me a sad smile and shook his head.

"I'm sorry Miss, there has been no mistake. Now, if you would please go back down to the lobby, I'm sure you'll be able to enjoy the nice refreshments we have for our uninvited guests,"

The Old man gestured to the elevator and smiled politely.

I put a hand to my chest to force air into my lungs and breathe normally.

"_Shit! Shit, shit, SHIT! Now what? I'm fucked! Fuck!"_ I thought frantically. I gave the man a pleading look.

"Please sir, you don't understand. I need to—"

"Don't worry Alfred, she's with me."

I completely forgot about the man from the elevator standing right next to me. He looked down at me with a barely restrained smile, and winked.

The old man chuckled. "Ahh, yes of course Master Bruce. Right this way Miss Botlina,"

The man took my arm and put it in the crook of his elbow. Alfred pushed the doors open, and made a big sweeping motion, motioning us inside.

The man escorted me inside the Dining hall, with my face the picture of shock.

I stopped him by putting my hands on his chest when we got far enough into the room.

"Wait a minute," I said cautiously, "Bruce? As in Bruce _Wayne?_ Of _Wayne_ Enterprises?"

Bruce flashed me a radiant smile and nodded his head.

"I'd rather go by just Bruce if you don't mind,"

I couldn't respond. I felt like I had chocolate pudding stuck in my throat.

Bruce took my hand, "Come_ Svetlana, _you look like you need a drink."

I'm going to need more than just one drink . . .

* * *

* * *

Roxanne had been lying on top of her couch stuck within the deep recesses of her mind for the past three weeks, six days, seven hours, and twenty three—no—twenty four minutes.

Scattered around her were discarded, used pieces of tissue paper, empty boxes of take out food, empty glasses and about a million pillows.

She remembered using the tissues paper and drinking the water, but she couldn't seem to recall managing to eat anything other than some toast and soup here and there.

"Aleks must've stopped by," she thought distractedly, too depressed to work up the energy to care that he'd left her apartment a mess.

The familiar feeling of tears welling up in the corner of her eyes overcame her as she once again thought about her missing best friend. The tears built and built until they finally spilled over her cheeks and to the corners of her mouth in two single trails.

She's been randomly crying silently for the past few days as a result of her entering one of the final stages of clinical sadness.

She went through it all.

Denial.

Anger.

Denial.

Hysteria.

Denial.

And finally numbness.

Roxanne managed to get the muscles in her face to tug at the corners of her lips at the thought of the look on Katherine's face if she were here at this very second. Roxanne knew that Miss Quinzel would never in a million years allow her to ever look like this.

Hell, Roxanne probably looked worse than she would if she'd just returned from a hurricane.

Roxanne was perfectly aware of the fact that her best friend would certainly be smart enough to at least _survive_ around the Joker; it was the paralyzing fear that the Joker would twist up her mind in a way that would render her unrecognizable for the rest of her life that made her sick with worry.

Roxanne was there with Katherine when she was constantly watching the videos and news reports about the Joker back in Metropolis. She knew all of the sick, twisted, malicious things that he was capable of doing. The cruel torture, the inhumane mind games, that incessant laughter . . .

Roxanne heard the sound of keys jingling in the direction of the door before her current boyfriend Aleks strolled inside carrying bags of what she assumed to be more food.

She felt a little bad for her him. She always did all the cooking for Katherine and Aleks due to there incompetence in the kitchen (Though Katherine did seem to be steadily progressing), and so her incapability to accomplish even the most insignificant of tasks has left her boyfriend with no other choice but to fend for himself.

"Hey Roxy!" He called in a cheerful joking voice, "You ready to leave the couch and make it to the bed?"

She scoffed at him. He knew perfectly well that she was in no mood, nor did she possess the strength to move from her current position. She chose the couch because that way she could obsessively flip through the T.V. channels in search of any information regarding Katherine's whereabouts.

She didn't respond to his words, and so he chuckled lightly to himself, put the bags down on the counter, and situated himself on the couch next to her practically comatose body.

He put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Roxy," He began, "I know you really miss her, and of course, I really miss her too—"

Roxanne snorted loudly at that ridiculous statement. Katherine and Aleks have always deeply disliked each other almost since the very beginning (probably due to the fact that they were both amazing artists), so she knew for a fact that he was only saying this in an attempt to console her.

How sweet.

"—But you know what?" He continued, ignoring my sarcastic snort, "I think you'll be very happy to hear that _it's finally done_."

Roxanne jumped off the couch, stumbling a bit as she tried to regain the mobility in her legs after barely moving (except for bathroom breaks) for almost four weeks.

"It's finished? Are you absolutely sure?" She asked, almost shrieking.

"Yeah man,"

She debated briefly over whether or not she was going to launch herself at Aleks as a result of the sheer joy coursing her veins, or to jump right into their plan as soon as possible.

But Roxy once again thought of Katherine in the hands of the Joker, grabbed the her phone and laptop, and went to work.

"We're coming for you babe,"

* * *

* * *

I had been trying my best not to get _too_ drunk within the first thirty minutes of the party, but it was proving to be incredibly difficult, seeing as how every time I emptied a glass, immediately another waiter appeared with a full one.

Luckily I was in possession of a very surprisingly high tolerance for alcohol, and nonetheless, this event only provided its guests with champagne and very fine red and white wine.

Bruce and I had been chatting away nonstop from the moment we entered the room despite the initial awkwardness at his revealed identity. I did not expect a man of his good fortune to be so humble and down-to-earth. He was so charming and witty and easy to talk to.

He made me feel so feminine every time I opened my mouth to speak to him. It was like he brought out the inner lady within me with his polite, refined, yet casual manor. It almost felt like I was on a date with the man, rather than on a mission for the Joker.

I sighed.

I hadn't forgotten the job, but at the moment, I was currently waiting for the Joker's signal to begin my part in the plan, and I figured that there was no real rule that said that I was required to sit there and freaking twiddle my thumbs while everyone else enjoyed the evening. I'm sure what I'm doing right now is perfectly acceptable.

Or at least I certainly hope it is.

I laughed at something funny Bruce said when he reached across the table and brushed his hand against mine lightly as he took a fork from my side of the table. I raised my eyebrow questioningly at him.

"I believe dinner's about ready to be served," He answered smoothly, eliciting a blush to my cheeks as a result of my sheer absurdity.

"_Oh my God, stop being such an idiot!"_ I berated myself, _"You can only hope to have someone as wonderful as him express anything more than friendship towards a woman like you!" _

I sighed again.

I was right, who was I to assume the ridiculous? This was _Bruce WAYNE_ for chrissake! Even _I _that name, and I grew up in Metropolis for Godssake! He has millions of women worldwide breaking down his door just to try and catch a mere _glimpse _of him! What makes _me_ so special?

"Is there something wrong?" Bruce asked, looking a bit concerned.

It was then that I realized that I hadn't replied to his earlier comment for some time now, and I was feeling increasingly stupid by the second.

"No," I hastily replied, "I'm really fine I just had a moment of—"

I was interrupted by someone clinking a spoon against a wine glass, silencing the dining hall.

Alfred stood in the center of the room with the same, friendly smile plastered onto his face as he cleared his throat, and pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Before we start our dinner," he read, "I would like to congratulate the people of Gotham City on behalf of their full support with Wayne Enterprises. I hope you all have a wonderful evening and . . . uh . . . oh dear, um,"

Alfred looked through the crowd to find Bruce's eyes. The butler's expression was unreadable as he sent a questioning gaze at Bruce.

The handsome man's shoulder's tensed reflexively, but he nodded for Alfred to continue.

Alfred looked down at the paper again. People began to murmur.

"I hope you all have a wonderful evening," he repeated, "And . . . that's all . . . folks?"

It felt like reality had just poured a bucket of cold water on my body.

My head whipped around so quickly I accidentally cracked it audibly. My eyes were wide and I felt a heavy weight settle onto my heart. Dread seeped into my bloodstream and I shut my eyes tightly while taking a deep breath. I opened them back again slowly, my expression forcibly blank.

That was the Joker's signal. It was time for phase one of the plan.

* * *

* * *

A/N: Oooooooooh~! Things really heat up for our little Kitty . . . . *Evil smirk*

Anyways, you know the drill, update in about two weeks (but i might write faster if I'm inspired by reviews! *winkwinkwinkwinkwink*).

REVIEW TO YOUR HEART'S CONTENT! (even if you just want to talk about what you had for breakfast today, i'll still appreciate it in reviews :D)

-Lotsa love, SongsThatSerenade7


	8. Happy Smiles

_**A/N: Sorry about the wait guys. I had major writer's block. No I haven't given up on this story, and yes I'll be updating more often than once a month . . . *bows head in embarrassment* Alright well, thank you to all that reviewed my story! And here's the chapter you all wanted!**_

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

* * *

The party took on a bit of an uneasy vibe after Alfred's speech. The guests, all having lived in Gotham for the majority of their lives, were fully aware of the implications of a little seemingly unintentional (and unexpected) 'play on words'. Everyone's poses took on a more rigid stance, almost as if they were preparing themselves to jump up and run at a moment's notice. Most, even the elderly guests, were incredibly reluctant to sit down. One even went so far as to eat his food while standing up at the table!

I, on the other hand, was glued to my chair. The Joker gave me my signal, and I was supposed to initiate the first part of the mission. But to even _begin_ to do that, I had to first, remove my ass from this God-forsaken _chair_.

I flinched away instinctively when Bruce tried to put his hand on my arm in what might've of been his attempt at a comforting gesture. Bruce looked a little taken aback at my violent response causing me keep my arm awkwardly suspended in the air while I scrambled my brain for an excuse.

"Uh . . . yeah, no I—don't take that personally, I just . . . am . . . a bit nervous . . . because of the speech," I supplied, trying to sound as honest as I could; it seemed to work though, as I watched Bruce's face slowly ease from a hard frown to a blank stare.

"There's no need to be paranoid Miss Quinzel," He stated firmly, unintentionally slipping into formalities, "That little . . . _slip-up_, won't cause you, or _any_one in this building any harm. I promise,"

'Oh but it'll eventually cause not only me, but _every_one _major_ harm,' I thought guiltily.

There's not like there were any other options for me anyway, and I knew that if I tried to confide in Bruce with the Joker's plan, my head would end up stuck on a pike in the middle of Gotham city for all to see by next week, no matter how much 'protection' they'd say they'd put for me.

All I could do was nod to Bruce and hope for my sake that I wouldn't mess up anything that might compromise the mission.

Bruce accepted my acknowledgment of his words, and his eyes gave the room a quick scan. Seeing nothing, he then excused himself from the table to go converse with Alfred about something.

'Now or never,' I told myself reluctantly. I stood up languidly from the chair; a little part of me still holding out hope that the Joker would change his mind and decide that I wasn't best suited to be responsible for such a job, but as I crossed the ballroom floor, my chances of avoiding this event grew slimmer.

I was headed to the other side of the room to a restroom where I assumed it would be safe to read the Joker's plans that I wrote down on a little piece of paper. The doors automatically swung open for me when I approached them, and without missing a step, I entered the lavish room and immediately settled into what I believed to be the most inconspicuous stall.

Luckily, no one happened to have had to use the restroom at that time, which meant that I could obtain the privacy I required to look at the paper without being paranoid.

My eyes swept the ceiling for any cameras, and, finding none, I reached into the neckline of my dress to pull out the paper hidden between my cleavage (a little trick Roxanne and I learned back in high school). I unfolded it as quietly as possible, and, taking a deep breath, began to read.

_1.) "Your job my little Kitty," _The Joker wrote,_ "Is pretty strait-forward." _

"_First, knowing your cute little ass, I believe you'd go in a restroom to read this. Well look at the marble wall behind you in your stall. Yes, your stall. Now, turn around . . ."_

'How could he possibly know which stall I'd be in?' I thought exasperatedly. I paused for a minute before spinning my head around so that my body would be turned towards the wall.

_And, now find the twelfth tile in the fourth row from the ceiling, and push it. _

Number one ended there.

I looked up towards the ceiling of the restroom and began counting the rows of tiles before I froze.

Did he want me to start counting the tiles that were only in my stall? Or all of thee tiles on that side of the room? And how can I be sure that he really does know which stall I'm in? I mean, I could have just as easily chosen the next stall on the right! Oh God, am I really that predictable to him?

I realized that I was seriously beginning to let the weight of my situation get to my brain when I asked myself that last question. Now was honestly the worst time to be getting diffident about the Joker's opinion of me.

I knew that I might hve been running a bit behind schedule, so in a radical leap of faith, I count across four tiles, down twelve . . .

The tile gave way easily under my fingers, and as soon as I pressed that tile, another one two spaces away, a different tile jutted out towards me. I grabbed the tile that was sticking out, and pulled with all my strength, but it wouldn't budge that way.

I quickly realized that the tile that was coming out would only move if I pushed the one going in. Wasting no time, I repeated the process of adding pressure to the "in" tile that would cause the "out" tile to jut out, until the "in" tile could go no further.

That's when I tugged on the "in" tile, which turned out to be surprisingly longer than I initially assumed it'd be, until it removed itself entirely from the wall. The tile was much denser and thicker than I had anticipated it to be, and so I almost dropped the chunk of marble into the toilet from the unexpected weight.

"That would've resulted in a rather unpleasant experience," I muttered aloud after correcting my grip.

Hesitantly, I peered into the hole that the tile had formed, and saw nothing within the darkness. I'm not sure what exactly I assumed I would find once I pulled out the tile, but ominous darkness definitely wasn't my first guess.

I forgot that I had been clutching the tiny piece of paper in my hand until that moment. I could've slapped myself for not consulting it earlier. I once again unfolded it carefully, and began to read on.

2.) "_See? Now that wasn't too hard! And to think that you didn't trust me for a moment there! All right now, but enough with the funny business," _I smirked and rolled my eyes.

"_Reach your hand inside the hole and pull out a little card. Inside the card you'll find a password," _

I peered into the hole once more, trying to see if something inside was going to slice up my hand or something, but I found only darkness.

I grit my teeth, and carefully slid my arm into the diamond-shaped hole. It was just big enough for my hand to fit into, and the longer I felt around in there, the more confident I was that nothing was going to attack me.

I let out a little uncharacteristic squeal of joy when my fingers felt something. I pulled out the paper in my hand, and, like the Joker promised, was a little card. The cover had the face of a clown on it of course.

I opened up the card, and sure enough, only a complicated arrangement of numbers, words, and symbols written down neatly in electric green ink.

I looked back at the instructions.

"_That's no ordinary password, Sweet Cheeks. That password can break any security pin or password or code for every computer found Wayne Enterprises, including the laptop belonging to none other than Mr. Whiny—oops, I mean Mr. Wayne himself!" _My eyes widened considerably at this statement, and I looked down at the password incredulously before returning to the piece of paper.

"_It wouldn't take a genius to figure out what I'm about to ask you to do now would it? I'm sure you already know, but I want to use that fucking hot-ass bod of yours to woo Mr. Whiny so that he's so distracted, he won't notice that you've used his computer to hack into the W.E. network, as directly send me all the their information! Why, that'd be the very LAST thing he'd expect now wouldn't it? Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah . . ." _

There was that sinking feeling in my stomach again. As much as the Joker intrigued and attracted me, I wouldn't willingly participate in a mission that would result in the complete decimation of every life in Gotham! Everyone knows that W.E. holds valuable information on all of the citizens as well as the weapon transactions all throughout the world. If the Joker gets his hands on that then . . . well, we're going to need a bigger hero than just Batman to save us.

My eye caught a bit more writing at the bottom of the page.

"_Don't dawdle too much Kitty Kat. I'm not a very patient man, and if anything goes wrong . . . well," _I pictured him pausing to lick his lips, "_I'm going to hold YOU, _per_-son-all-y account-able. Hop to it." _

"SLAM!"

The sound of the bathroom door closing behind me awoke me from the foggy haze that was my mind. My eyes snapped up, but when I saw that no one was regarding me with any suspicion, I relaxed somewhat.

"Katherine?"

I yelped in surprise when I heard Mr. Wayne's voice. I turned around to find him standing not even two feet away from me. I had no idea how he managed to sneak up on me like that without being noticed, but from the looks of it, he didn't appear to be preparing to confront me about anything.

In fact, he looked a bit worried himself. He didn't even seem to have noticed the mini epileptic fit I just had from his sudden apparition behind me, much to my relief.

"Bruce?" I answered quickly after realizing that he was expecting some form of a response.

"I think it's best we sit down and eat now," He stated a bit too calmly, "Won't do any good to let the food get could now would it?"

"I . . . guess not. Alright" I replied meekly.

Bruce placed his hand on the small of my back as he led us back to our table, only this time, it was filled with an assortment of all kinds of foods; the table almost resembled a mini buffet in my eyes, and it was at that moment that my stomach made its presence known.

He pulled my chair out for me as if it were habit to him before taking his own seat. Immediately he began taking food from all the dishes laid out on the table. He did this while wearing a slight frown, and that alone told me that he already suspects some foul play.

He paused with a fork half-way to his mouth before looking up to make direct eye contact with me.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly, and that was when I realized that I had been staring at him the entire time without blinking.

I turned my face down to my empty plate, my face red with embarrassment. I head him lightly chuckling to himself, no doubt believing that my blatant staring had been the result of an attraction for him—which isn't necessarily _un_true—and that fact only added to my embarrassment.

Bruce glanced at my tomato-red face, and frowned in confusion.

"You're not hungry?" He implored.

I looked up at him questioningly.

"I seemed to have recalled at some point during our conversation that your stomach screamed for your attention," Bruce supplied with a smirk.

'Did it really?' I thought, mortified.

"That's why I set up this little assortment of food for you," He continued, "I wanted you to not have to wait in line for food when you came out of the bathroom."

My heart clenched in guilt at his amiable consideration for me.

"You didn't have to do that!" I exclaimed, "I was more than capable of getting my own food. I'm sorry, I didn't want to burden you with such trivial matters."

This was Bruce's party and here he was taking care of the woman who would eventually be an accomplice to the utter demise of his company as well as the entire city.

"I'm well aware of what I do and do not have to do Katherine," Bruce said looking amused by my reaction, "I _wanted_ to do it. I thought you might feel a bit grateful,"

"Oh no! I am grateful! I am so grateful!" I declared vehemently, horrified at my lack of manners, "Thank so much, I really do appreciate it, it's just that I realize that you're busy welcoming and speaking with your guests, and so I didn't want your valuable free time to be wasted on a person like me! You could've been—"

"Stop right there Katherine," Bruce interrupted, "My time had not in _any way_ been wasted. I wanted to help you. I didn't feel _compelled _to do it just because! I honestly just take pleasure in making people happy. Don't underscore yourself Katherine. You're a beautiful woman and I'd only be too happy to care for you,"

Bruce gave me and intense look.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "You've had too many glasses of champagne Mr. Wayne,"

"Call me Bruce,"

"You've had one too many, _Bruce" I _reiterated.

"Katherine, I'm not drunk. I meant every word." He said, looking dead serious.

I just laughed and shooed away his comment with my hand. Bruce Wayne believing me to be beautiful? He must be intoxicated. Or _I _must be intoxicated. The idea of someone like him, handsome, rich, intelligent, powerful, _liking _me is just too unbelievable for my mind.

Bruce caught my hand with his and held it. He took my chin and forced me too look into his eyes. I saw nothing but warmth within them, and that feeling was directed towards me.

'Oh,'

Bruce's face tilted downwards a bit, and I noticed that his gaze was trained on my lips. His tongue darted out and swiped across his lips briefly—moisturizing them.

His eyes flickered up and caught mine like a predator attacking an innocent doe. I never stood a chance. Before my mind could process what was happening, Bruce's face was no more the an inch from mine.

It was as if someone had set our bodies to be polar magnets, and we couldn't help but be attracted to each other. I could feel his breath lightly fan my lips, and they parted slightly of their own accord.

Bruce let out a light chuckle when he saw my eyelids droop, and he advanced towards me ever so slowly . . .

Someone cleared their throat behind us. Our heads separated so quickly, I became slightly dizzy with the sudden rush of motion. Bruce and I both looked towards the source of the unfortunately timed interruption, only to see every head in the room turned towards us, and about two hundred pairs of eyes trained on our faces.

The silence grew loud.

It was a delayed reaction, but sure enough, my face flamed up brilliantly, and the reaction was instantaneous.

Every voice in the room filled my ears; the excited gossipers whispering about such a juicy scoop, business partners sending cat-calls and whoops of encouragement to Bruce, even Alfred who looked to be smirking to himself and shaking his head.

"Who _is _that girl? Why does_ she_ get to be so lucky—"

"Ugh! Do you _see_ what she's wearing? _So_ twenty minutes a—"

"He has to be drunk to be sleeping around with her—"

"Oh God, what a slut—"

"I heard that she's easy. Mr. Wayne must be so desperate to wanna—"

"I hate her—"

All the whispers in the room seemed to penetrate my mind, but all I could clearly make out were the snide remarks of all the females in the room.

Any other time, I wouldn't have given a shit about what they thought (I mean what true importance do they really have in my life?), but this undeniably _public_ display of affection in front of hundreds of members of the elite society of Gotham had me dying of embarrassment to say in the least.

I wanted to hide my face in my hands.

Bruce's hand stopped me from doing so, and he pulled my chin up to make me look at him.

Bruce looked unfazed by all the attention. In fact, it was almost like he didn't even appear to have noticed all the pointed stares and blatant comments being thrown all around us.

He leaned across the table, and for a moment there I thought that he was going to try to kiss me again. Instead, he missed my lips, and hovered by my ear.

"Not here," He whispered smoothly, sending shivers down my spine.

He then in one fluid motion, pulled out my chair, took my hand, and pulled me up to my feet in the span of about two seconds. It looked like we did a sort of complicated dance move, only I, for once, looked to be participating in this act of grace as well.

In no time at all, Bruce had his hand on the small of my back, and he was leading me out of the dining hall, much to the chagrin of the women guests at the party.

I once again had to ignore the suggestive statements and double entendres that were being thrown at us. The dining hall looked beautiful as we walked through it, and I hadn't had the time to admire it at all since I had entered, but now I could pause for a moment to soak up all of the beauty.

There were about four golden chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, each with about a million silver lights on them, the incandescent light filling the room and giving everything a more elegant feel. The floor was colored in white marble that was so clean that if you looked carefully enough, one could see their reflection.

I didn't get to admire every detail though, because in absolutely no time, we were at the exit.

Bruce stepped in front of me to open the door, and held it for me until he was sure that my entire body had passed through to the other room.

He then took my hand and put it into the crook of his elbow, as he escorted me away. I stared at him a bit dazedly. He was just so . . . attractive.

Everything about him screamed "I am a man." He was so confident and graceful and strong, he was polite and well mannered, and I knew that he'd never embarrass me, and that I'd be proud to introduce him to my family and whatnot. He was just so—

"Keep staring at me like that and I think I'll be forced to pull you into the nearest janitor's closet," He said calmly. He didn't have to look at me to see that I was gaping at him like an idiot.

"Oh, I wasn't . . . staring at you!" I quickly lied. I was tired of being at the mercy of my constant embarrassment.

Bruce quirked an eyebrow, "Oh really?" He inquired softly, pulling us down a hallway, "So you just find it to be good manners to attach your eyes incessantly to one's person?"

"I was merely admiring the furnishings on the wall to your left. My eyes never touched your body,"

I wanted to punch myself as soon as I said that. Really Quinzel? Is that the best lie you have? Honestly?

Bruce's lips curled up into a smirk, and his eyes crinkled up in amusement.

"Ah. I see," he answered, the smirk still in place, "I never realized that beige plaster could be so . . . captivating . . ."

"Oh it truly is . . ." I replied lamely.

Bruce looked down at me, eyebrow raised, but I trained my face to look calmly impassive.

He kept staring at me.

I cleared my throat, and decided to change the subject.

"So," I began, breaking the silence, "Where exactly are you leading me?"

Bruce laughed at my obvious attempt at a diversion, but he let it slide.

"Well," He finally said after his laughter died down, "I didn't think that you very much enjoyed being subjected to all the imperious glared directed at your person, so I thought that we could try to enjoy ourselves in a bit of a more . . . _private _setting?"

Bruce looked to me questioningly, as if asking for my permission for something.

I felt very conflicted. I was pretty sure that he'd just propositioned me for sex, and part of me doesn't care in the slightest—in fact, that part actually wants to nod my head furiously and accept his offer with open arms—but the other part of me feels depressed that all he wants from me is sex.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure sex is great (Me only having had it enough times to technically be considered not a virgin, and the dude was lacking to say at best), but I'm not just gonna throw myself at the guy!

Okay, so he asked me first, but still. I just met him! I'm pretty sure I'd need to have known him for oh . . . 24 more hours for it to be okay.

"Katherine,"

My head snapped up to his face.

"Hmm?" I responded.

"I've been calling your name for a few minutes. I seem to recall us having a conversation, but perhaps I was just imagining it," Bruce said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I hid my face a little, "Right," I replied lamely.

Bruce nudged me.

"Hey," He said, pausing until I returned his eye contact, "It's entirely okay, I find your spacey-ness to be a bit . . . cute."

I only stared at him incredulously. He sure was the first one to say that to me.

"I do!" He insisted when he saw the look on my face.

I just shook my head and continued staring strait.

There was a bit of a pause in the conversation after that, and Bruce continued to drag us down several corridors and we made a bunch of right and left turns. I had no idea that Wayne Enterprises was so huge! When we finally stopped, I felt like I had walked all across town!

Bruce stopped us in front of a large wooden, mahogany door, with a brass old-fashioned doorknob, but instead of a lock, there was a finger print scanner directly above the doorknob.

Bruce placed his thumb on the scanner, and a green light flashed briefly, before a soft 'Click' sounded, and the door was unlocked.

I stepped inside the room. Bruce got in behind me, and flicked on the light switch. The room was suddenly lit, and I could see the beautiful room that laid before me.

The room looked like the presidential suite of a five-star hotel in Metropolis. The floors were furnished with alabaster-white carpet, a full modernly designed kitchen, and there were pots hanging about the stove (which was located in a little island in the middle of the cuisine). The floors and counters were covered with black marble; Not only that, but the living room had incredibly high ceilings (_with_ of course, a chandelier) and there were couches of all different sizes and colors strewn about in the middle. There was a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out on a beautiful view of Gotham city, and, last but not least, a giant, automated, fireplace.

But the object that truly attracted my attention, was the brand new laptop sitting on the table in the middle of his living room.

My world stopped, and it was at that moment that I remembered my predicament with the Joker.

Suddenly, the piece of paper with the password on it became so hot that it felt like it was burning my skin off. There was no way to ignore it now.

I vaguely heard Bruce's keys hit the kitchen counter, as he took of his suit and kicked off his shoes.

Bruce walked over to where I was currently immobilized and nudged me a bit.

"Katherine?" Bruce asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Hmm? Oh . . . yeah," I replied distractedly.

Bruce looked to where I was and chuckled. I'm sure he thought that I was merely intimidated by the size of his study.

"Well!" Bruce suddenly exclaimed, "I think I'm going to change out of this suit. Make yourself at home. I'll be back in a few minutes,"

It took a moment for his words to properly sink in. Leaving? Me? Alone? With his computer?

Before I could reactivate my brain and try and stop him from leaving me here, the door to his room shut closed behind him.

My eyes slowly shifted to the dreaded laptop that would soon be the key tool that I would use to single-handedly place Gotham at the full mercy of the Joker.

* * *

_**A/N: Poor Kitty Quinzel! I hope she doesn't get into TOO much trouble . . . . *snicker* Anyways, Update in a bout two weeks or so! Definitely not a month though!**_

_**-LEAVE ME A REVIEW PLZ! SongsThatSerenade7**_


	9. No More Funny Business

**_This was by far my FAVORITE chapter to write. Enjoy~!_**

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**CHAPTER 9**

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I stood there gaping at the undeniably _vulnerable_ laptop that sat on the little mahogany coffee table in the center of the living room, internally urging myself to pick up my foot and take a step.

I vaguely heard Bruce shuffling in whatever room he went in to my left. The pieces of paper that were still hidden at the base of my bra burned my skin reminding me of the weight of my situation.

I blinked a few times, realizing that this was probably the only opportunity I would have of gaining access to Bruce's laptop without his knowledge, short of knocking him out with a blunt object, as, of course, I had in the past been known to do.

That, fortunately and unfortunately, was not even an option. Bruce didn't look like the type to allow himself to be dumb enough to be knocked unconscious by anyone, let alone me . . .

I took one more look in the direction that Bruce went, and without allowing myself anymore time to dwell on any unfavorable scenarios, I shot forward to the little coffee table in the living room where the laptop was with a speed I had not known I'd possessed.

I reached the computer, and sat down on the couch facing it as silently as possible. I flipped up the top part of the laptop carefully, and prayed as the screen was loading, that there would be no lock on it.

The screen loaded with no trouble, and I internally gave myself a high-five.

There were only three folders on the desktop, none of which appeared to be what I was looking for . . .

But then again, I still had _no idea_ as to WHAT exactly I was looking for. I had a bit of a mini heart attack as I realized this, but in my haze of panic a small part of me remembered one of the small pieces of paper safely tucked away into my bra. It took me no time at all to pull out the paper and unfold it so that I could read the last few instructions.

"_Ugh!" _It read, "_That took you much too long to get here, Katty girl. Let's pick up our feet a bit, yeah? Don't want to have any, uh, com-pli-ca-tions . . ." _

"_Now. I assume that you've gotten to good ol' Brucey's computer, so here's a where you need to go. See that little apple button on the top left corner of the screen?"_

My eyes obediently trailed to the colorful apple button.

"_Go ahead and DOUBLE click that. Little Brucey did some weird Geek Squad black magic or something, the hell if I know shit about computers, and hid our desired activation file within the double click of the apple button."_

I eyed the apple button doubtfully, never having heard of using some "Geek Squad black magic" to put a secret file somewhere just by clicking something two times . . . but I wasn't about to go against the Joker's directions and fuck something up just because it seems highly unlikely that it'll work.

So I moved the cursor to the little rainbow apple icon and, as instructed, double clicked it.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. I frowned, and then moved to click it again, when suddenly something popped up in the middle of the screen. It read:

"**Welcome Bruce. Enabling project 4279 at your command. Enter your password to initiate the data transfer. Then, enter your coordinates to transfer information to the location of your choice." **

I pulled out the other little piece of paper in my bra with the password on it that I received from that little bathroom escapade. Bras are honestly one of _the best_ places to store things, I swear.

I studied the assortment of letters and numbers, and took care to copy each number and letter into the computer. When I was done, I double-checked it for mistakes, and having found none I left that alone.

There were two places to put a password on the little pop-up. One was the code to activate the transfer, and the other was to type in the coordinates for the location of the transfer. Problem was, the Joker only gave me one password.

I picked up the little paper that I'd absentmindedly put on the table, and referred back to it.

"_Sigh," _It read,_ "Kitty! I'm disappointed in you! You'd think that by now you'd uh, trust me . . . HAHAHAHAHA! Oh! Trust! What a joke. Good. I like the way you think Kit Kat, I like my girls with some semb-lance of a BRAIN."_

I glowed a bit inside at his praise, though I was still pretty amazed that the joker could know me so well after only less than a month.

"_It's not uh, rocket science Katty, I'm just . . . vi-gi-lant," _The Joker wrote, somehow answering my question

'Or telepathic,' I thought aloud.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a shower turning off.

'Oh, God. Bruce was in the _shower?' _I thought, my heartbeat rate picking up a few beats.

That's when it hit me. He was coming out of the shower! Once he dried off, he might want to walk out and check on me . . .

I frantically looked to the piece of paper to see what I had to do about the code I had to put in for the coordinates. I was really running out of time.

"_Eager are we? Well fret not Cupcake, just re-type the password. It'll go where I want. It. To. And uh, one more thing . . . you might want to be prepared to uh, RUN."_

He didn't have to tell me twice. With speed that surprised even myself, I re-typed the password into the place to enter the coordinate.

I heard the door swing open, and Bruce let out a loud yawn, alerting me of his presence. I heard him pause while he was walking. It was at that point that I knew I was caught, but I couldn't afford to stop typing, cause if I did, even for a second, I knew I'd forget my place, and all would be lost.

"Katherine," Bruce said slowly, as he stepped further into the living room, "What . . . do you think you're doing?"

My mind was too preoccupied to come up with a response; I only focused on finishing. Just a few more letters . . .

"KATHERINE!" Boomed Bruce, making my fingers falter for a second. I cursed out loud, because his voice cause me to jump, and I think my finger hit a button, but I wasn't absolutely sure, and I couldn't see what I might've messed up on because the password was hidden.

I paused for only a moment before deciding to just continue on as if nothing had happened. I heard Bruce's footsteps pick up as I typed in the last few numbers, thankful that the living room was so big, and before he could reach me, I hit the enter button and snapped the lid of the laptop closed in merely seconds time.

I was violently knocked aside by Bruce when he snatched his computer away from me. Immediately, he flipped it open, and from my point on the floor, I saw that something was loading. There didn't appear to be a cancel button though, and the activation looked just about complete.

Bruce began typing something as quickly as he could, most likely trying to undo the activation.

This was where my instincts took over. I pushed myself up from the floor and took off in break-neck speed. I arrived at the door in seconds, and it was barely open before I shoved my body through and bolted down the empty hallway.

As I left the room, I heard Bruce curse loudly, indicating that his attempts at reversing the process had failed.

Wasting no time, I sprinted down the hallways, making sure to retrace my steps back to the elevators in front of the entrance of the dining hall. I took sharp turns, and almost slipped and fell multiple times as I was running.

I heard a distant door slamming shut and knew that Bruce would be catching up to me in moments if I didn't run faster.

So I ditched the shoes I was wearing in an attempt to gain speed. This allowed me to be quieter while running as well.

I took a right turn widely and had to push myself off the wall to keep from hitting it. In the distance I could see the elevators, and though my lungs were on fire and my thighs ached from sudden use, I pushed out everything I had to get there.

I skidded on the marble floors to stop my self once I reached the elevators and incessantly pushed the down button.

I looked up at the top of the elevator and saw that it was a few floors away from this one, and I'd have to wait for it.

"C'mon, C'mon, C'mon, C'mon, C'mon, C'mon, _please, please, please,_" I urged the elevator, bouncing up and down and shaking my leg impatiently. My heart was beating at an impossibly quick rate, and my eyes kept on flickering over to the hallway I just came through, hoping to God that I'd make it in time before Bruce came barreling down the hallway.

I froze in my spot in front of the elevators when I could faintly hear footsteps rapidly approaching.

Thankfully, the elevators "Dinged", and the door right in front of me slid open, revealing emptiness.

I the air I didn't know I was holding suddenly whooshed out as I stepped in the elevator. I pressed the "G" button to get down to the lobby, and as the doors were closing, I leaned against the wall of the elevator. My legs finally gave out underneath me, and my body slid down to the floor.

Out of absolutely nowhere, a hand flashed between the elevator doors right before they shut, and slid right back open to reveal a scowling, red-faced, angry Bruce Wayne.

I screamed instinctively and shot up from the floor, my eyes desperately searching for an escape.

I found none.

Bruce's body blocked everything, and unless I could somehow learn to walk through walls _at this very second_, then I had no chance of escape.

So I did the only thing most girls can do in this type of situation.

Without thinking, I pulled my foot back and went to slam it right into Bruce's crotch, only he caught my leg right before it made contact, and kicked my left foot out from underneath me.

My head slammed onto the floor of the elevator and it felt like my entire face was suddenly enveloped in pain. Bruce bent down, grabbed my legs, and dragged me out of the elevator, letting the doors shut, eliminating my last chance of escape.

Bruce grabbed my right arm, pulled me up, and slammed me against the carpet covered beige wall, and my head to banged against it again, the pain returning ten-fold. When I opened my eyes, the world spun and I felt as if I was about to throw up.

Bruce pressed his body tightly against me and brought his face down. He grabbed both my hands in one of his, and forced them above my head. I tried to struggle out of his grip, but I was pinned against the wall by his body, and my energy had already been depleted from the sprinting I had done.

Bruce took my chin in his free hand, and forced me to look at him. His nose was flaring and his chest was heaving. He looked like a half-crazed madman who was barely restraining himself—which, from the looks of it, he probably was.

"Do. You. Have _even the slightest_ idea of what you've done?" He spit at me in a deathly calm voice, his body literally shaking from anger.

I only looked at him, and I tried to make sure my face gave away no emotion.

"ANSWER ME!" Bruce boomed, taking my body and slamming it back against the wall.

I groaned in pain but still refused to answer him.

His face corrugated into a deep scowl and he almost growled in anger. He squeezed his eyes shut and spoke through his teeth.

"I can't believe I trusted you," He ground out opening his eyes again, "Was that your plan? Get by my defenses only to stab me in the back when I'm sleeping? HUH?" Bruce shook me harder when I didn't answer him. He suddenly stopped shaking me and gave me a pained look.

"You seemed so much different from the others," He whispered to himself—his face hardened, "But you're corrupt. Just as all the other crooks in this God-forsaken city. And _you _are going to jail just like all of the—"

Bruce cut himself off at the look in my eyes.

I felt so defeated and I knew my face showed it. I hadn't been so close to crying in a long time. For some reason, his words really affected me, and I couldn't help but feel like such a douche bag for tricking him like that.

Bruce studied me for a moment, before it clicked together in his mind.

"Someone's forcing you to do this," It wasn't a question. Bruce's face melted in . . . relief? He seemed much more at peace with that knowledge.

He stepped away from me, releasing my hands, and I quickly clutched my head, as it was still throbbing.

"Who?" He asked me softly.

I looked up at him, and shook my head.

"Who?" He asked again more forcefully, "I'll protect you from whoever it is, just tell me wh—"

We heard screaming. Loud, fearful, mass panic and chaos coming from behind us in the dining hall.

Our heads snapped to the direction of the strident noise. "What—" Began Bruce, but he was cut off by the overly familiar, unmistakable evil cackle of none other than the Joker himself.

* * *

Second later, the sharp sounds of bullets flying through the air permeated all noise. The Screaming grew louder, shriller, more terrified.

And still, the moment I heard that characteristic laugh of the Joker's, I immediately felt a strange mix of dread, and exhilaration. My blood pump just a little bit faster; and not out of fear.

I swiveled around and opened my mouth to say something to Bruce, but the words immediately died in my throat.

Bruce wasn't there.

Not even a minute ago he was standing _right there,_ and somehow he managed to leave me in this empty hallway, without me actually hearing it.

"Or maybe I heard it, and I was just kind of distracted by the impending destruction of the entire city of Gotham," I thought aloud. As if on cue, my thoughts were complimented by a release of about a million bullets from what I would guess to be the biggest machine gun ever.

There was a sudden silence, before the screams rang out once more, increasing in volume and intensity with each millisecond.

Another loud bout of laughter rang from the room, and somehow I knew that inside, the Joker was waiting for me.

"_Now or not at all,"_ I thought reluctantly, my hands resting lightly on the handle as I steeled myself for entrance into what was sure to be a war zone.

The doors swung open before I could do anything, only to reveal a smiling, happy-go-lucky Joker, holding what was sure to be the most elaborate gun I'd ever laid eyes upon.

I wasn't quite prepared to see his face twisted in such a . . . friendly manner, so his appearance caused me to recoil a bit. The Joker threw his head back and laughed loudly upon seeing my expression, which immediately set my instincts on high alert.

He quickly sobered, though, and sent me a bone chilling smirk over his shoulder as he welcomed me into the room ostentatiously; as if presenting the room to me as he went.

"Well if it isn't the guest of _honor! _You're, uh, late," The Joker wagged his fingers in my face in disapproval.

"Ah ah!" He said, as if I were about to make an excuse for being late, "No worries, you're just in time to open presents!"

I couldn't hear him though. I was much too distracted by the horrific scene that was the dining hall.

There were many people wounded in the corners, clutching at their injuries while their dates crowded around them, trying to tend to them or wrap their wounds. Blood covered the floors, the drapes on the windows were burnt in some areas, tables were turned over, and the women were people begging and pleading with the goons, their faces caked with mascara and smeared lipstick.

I jumped when the hilt of a goon's gun connected with some poor man's face over to my right. His date immediately scrambled over to him and took his face in her lap.

The Joker snapped his fingers in front of my face, directing my attention back to him.

"Uh, Kitty, are you even _lis-ten-ing_ to me?"

His gaze followed my eyes.

"Oh. That?" He asked, "Oh don't mind Goofy, he's just having some fun."

I looked back at the scene and saw that Goofy was taunting the man and laughing at him.

"Aww, why so serious Kit Kat? I leave you alone for five hours and you go and forget all about the way I do business!"

The Joker reached and grabbed my face, forcing me to stare into his black eyes. My face melted back into it's reflexive stony expression as he scrutinized me.

The Joker released my face after a moment, and began circling me as he palmed his weapon in his right hand.

"Besides," He continued, "I didn't actually _kill _anyone,"

The Joker paused licked his lips and grinned, "Well . . . at least not _yet." _

I raised an eyebrow at him. I had to wonder at that. It didn't seem anything like the Joker to let an opportunity to kill someone go.

The Joker looked at me and chuckled to himself. "Oh, I am oh so _touched,_ that you would take the time to get to know little old me!"

"Does he read minds?" I thought.

"No, you just have a tendency to voice your thoughts vocally" He replied, highly amused.

I stared back at him in horror.

"Well, That, _AND_ you can be very predictable, BUT! To answer your question," The Joker interrupted before I could object, "If you had been _listening_ to me while I was talking, instead of taking a visit into La-La Land, then you would've heard me say that we're about to open _presents,"_

The Joker smiled wickedly. He reached into his left pocket, pulled out a small cell phone, and lifted it to his face.

"And look!" He exclaimed happily, "I believe I just, uh, received it,"

My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw "1 new message" on his cell. It was at that moment that I knew I'd never be able to live down the fact that all the lives that'll no doubt be lost would be because of me. It was like I had just handed the key to Pandora's box to the Joker, and it was almost definite that absolutely no good will come out of it.

"How cruel would it be-," The Joker continued, interrupting my thoughts, "—to keep all these good people from seeing my reaction as I accept your gift?" The Joker laughed, "I mean, I'm not _that _twisted . . . well . . . maybe a _teensy_ bit."

As he was laughing, the Joker put his hand on the small of my back, dangerously low, and led me towards the stage where the orchestra had been playing music.

"Alright now," The Joker said, sobering up, "No more fun-ny business. It's time I uh, reclaim my uh, throne as Gotham's. Most. Feared Criminal,"I

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_**I would've made this chapter longer, but I wanted to get this to you guys as soon as possible. Next chapter, more shit's going to go down . . . so stay tuned! New chapter in about two weeks!**_

P.S. I adore ALL Reviews! Even the flames. (You know who you are)

~~.Serenade.7


	10. Play Time

**_Sorry for the extremely late update. I had finals, but as we speak I working on the next one, so it should come much sooner than this one. :D Enjoy!_**

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**Chapter 10**

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The Joker ducked away from me after his declaration, leaving me just standing there staring at retreating figure, not quite sure what response would be appropriate in my situation.

Should I egg him on? Encourage him to go through with the mass destruction of an entire city? Should I try and stop him?

I chuckled weakly. As If I could actually stop the Joker from doing ANYTHING.

The Joker spun on his heel gaily, twirling him gun around in the air while walking by the party guests. Every few moments he would stop to pretend to shoot the gun to particularly terrified hostages, resulting in them flinching violently, or crying out in fear.

I gasped instinctively when the Joker ACTUALLY released a shot, and the resulting blast was great enough to shock the entire room into silence.

The person who had been the Joker's target was now sporting a huge gaping hole on the side of his left leg. Apparently, the man was quick enough to get out of the line of fire before his body joined the collective debris scattered around the room, but he still couldn't manage to escape the full blast.

No one said anything for a couple heartbeats, and it seemed as though the entire room had their eyes glued to the man's incinerated leg, the Joker included.

The man's mouth was hanging open in a silent scream as his hands slowly extended to his leg. Strangely enough, the leg wasn't bleeding. In fact, when I looked carefully enough, I could see what looked to be frost on the edge of his battered skin.

"Alright! Now this here's uh, MY kinda gun . . .," The Joker suddenly exclaimed, snapping everyone out of the trance that they were under. As the Joker regarded his weapon with renewed interest, realization set into everyone's minds, and a steady hum of horror grew until it rose to a cacophony of screaming and yelling, pleading and negotiating, groveling and crying.

The Joker regarded the hysterics with an impatient sigh and his signature eye roll. He licked his before grabbing the nearest gun from a goon to his right, pulling back the safety, raising the gun over his head, and setting off about twenty shots in the ceiling. When the room was reduced to nothing but tense silence once more, tossed the gun over his shoulder onto the floor.

"I think . . ." The Joker began, walking slowly towards the party guests, "That you all have, uh, _forgotten_. Your. Place."

The Joker paused in front a violently trembling woman, clutching herself tightly, and desperately trying to avoid his gaze.

The Joker loomed over the poor woman, and peered down at her with a sick smirk painted across his features.

He then lowered himself down on one knee, so that his face was level with hers. The woman began to cry silently, and she squeezed her eyes shut, shudders wracking her body.

The Joker tilted his head.

"Why, exactly, do you uh, think. That. Is. . . hmm?"

The woman didn't respond.

"WELL!"

The woman began to whine.

The Joker huffed in annoyance and stood up abruptly. He went over to pick up a stray gun on the floor, turned, and shot the woman in her left arm in one swift motion.

The woman screamed, and clutched her arm to her body, now openly weeping.

The Joker now had the gun pointed her head.

"Shut. Up." He growled. The girl cut herself off and looked strait into the barrel of the gun. It looked as if a little light went out within her and her body sagged under its weight, as she regarded the weapon with an expressionless face.

The Joker put the gun away though, and turned away without looking back at her. The woman sat there, unmoving.

"You ALL. Have _forgotten_. Your _place," _The Joker ground out, recommencing his prowl around the group.

"All you fucking_ pansies_ just sit there wailing on about how you're all about to die, and you know? I didn't see one _fucking_ human being stand up and try to stop me."

The Joker's hands clenched and unclenched as his face corrugated into a painful-looking smile, his eyes just as crazed as he was.

"I just. Don't. Un-der-stand," He continued, sounding angrier with every word, "It's almost like you all uh, prefer to be humiliated and broken as you're killed begging me to spare your lives instead of dying in an attempt to _kill _me, or, _God forbid_, defy me!"

The Joker's breathing became ragged as the intensity of his voice increased.

"You know why I hate this city so much?"

The Joker whirled around and faced the guests who regarded him as they would a venomous snake.

"Because the people of this city feel safe by letting some hero who calls himself 'The Batman'," The Joker took a moment to roll his eyes, "Do your dirty work!"

"Everyone in this room would sooner throw their first-born children into a bed of hot coals then step across 'em themselves," The Joker whispered to himself. Everyone heard him.

Suddenly, the Joker burst out into loud peals of laughter, shocking all the guests in the room. Even the goons seemed a bit weary of the Joker now. It truly appeared as if the Joker had seriously lost it this time.

"You . . . see this?" The Joker asked between breaths. He held up a small black device that resembled a USB drive presented it to the room.

"THIS, is what's going to allow me to uh, have my _fun_ with Gotham," The Joker licked his lips, "The information on this will be enough to bring this city to its _knees. _And it's all thanks to my very obedient little Kitty Kat over there,"

The Joker gestured to me, as I stood there silently, taking in everything without a word. I stood there blinking stupidly, trying to get my mind to _work. _There was a word for this.

Concussion. Right. I think I have a concussion. My mind felt as if someone had been clanging a pair of symbols against my head. My ears were ringing and I felt like I was going to throw up. Not only that, but I felt like shit, because throughout the entire time the Joker had been tormenting these poor people, I was disconnected from everything. I couldn't summon even the smallest semblance of any emotion for these poor people.

I wasn't quite sure when I started feeling the results of one having their head smashed against solid surfaces repeatedly within the span of ten minutes by a surprisingly strong entrepreneur, but all I could currently focus on, was keeping myself from collapsing to the floor, and the unbelievable pain I was feeling.

So I said nothing when the Joker acknowledged me, which, unfortunately, wasn't exactly the greatest plan of action.

The Joker stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout.

"Aw, what's wrong Kitty? _Kat_ got your tongue? Ha!"

Still no response.

The Joker grew visibly angrier.

In a second his face became tranquil. The Joker licked his lips as if tasting them for the first time, as he made his way to my unresponsive person.

I was so out of it by then, I never saw him coming until I felt the unmistakable feeling of his hot breath on the back of my neck.

"You," The Joker began in a whisper, "You, uh, my dear, are playing games with me—oh no," The Joker interrupted himself as if he expected me to protest in any way, "You are. Yes, yes you are _Kit-_ty."

The Joker swung his free arm around my neck and held me in an almost-impossible-to-breathe chokehold. It was only then that my mind was capable of a response, but the lack of oxygen to my already battered head escalated my pain _exponentially. _

"_Joker," _I gasped roughly, "Please. I—"

"See, I'm sure you know that I uh, _love_ myself a good game, but it makes me so _s-a-d _to be left out of such a _good_ time . . ."

I began to wheeze. My lungs were burning and my air supply was depleting.

"Joker . . . Can't . . . let me go . . . please,"

"Oh, looooook who's decided to squeal!"

The Joker released his grip on my neck and let me fall down to the floor with a thump. My lungs sucked up the air greedily, and I felt the blood rushing back to my brain. The pain was agonizing. Now, not only did I have a concussion, but a massive headache as well.

From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the Joker pause for a second to look at me, before continuing to make his way to the center of the dance floor, where most of the debris from all the gunfire and explosions collected.

The Joker went over and stepped on a fallen support beam that fell from the ceiling. I looked up absentmindedly, and noticed for the first time since I stepped into the room that there was a huge, gaping hole in the ceiling directly above the dance floor.

The Joker cleared his throat to collect the attention of the room. It was unnecessary though, because the last little stunt of almost choking me to death encouraged everyone to make sure they looked alert and attentive.

"I think this game's gotten just a uh, little old. I'm booored, so let's add some spice into the mix shall we? Remember this?" The joker held up the same little device that he introduced previously, only this time; there was a blinking red light on the top of it.

"Once I press this little red light, every one of you dirty snot-nosed pansies of Gotham city are going to enter a new age! A new age brought on by yours truly." The Joker wore such a sick smirk that I knew that nothing good would ever come out of his control. He was going to run this whole city to the ground.

The Joker held up his little device and made a show of it.

The Joker began to cackle.

"Now, is there anything thing any one of you feel like sharing in your last moments?" The Joker asked mockingly.

There was silence.

The Joker smirked triumphantly and began to laugh even louder.

Without warning, a shadow flew across the room, and knocked the device out of the Joker's hands and into the very far corner of the room away from the door.

"_Actually,"_ A gravelly voice said from somewhere in the room, "_I'd rather let my fists do the talking," _

The shadow landed behind the Joker, but by that time the entire room already knew who it was.

Batman.

His suit looked as if it had been upgraded to the 2.0 edition. It was darker than the other, and the suit itself almost appeared to have been carved out of steel. The Utility belt had been painted to look coppery and was fastened to his hips. His mask was shaped to mold against his head and the material either bended perfectly for his eyes, or he just wore the correct eye make-up.

He looked better than I ever imagined.

"Wow," The Joker said, sounding completely unimpressed, "Good one Batsy. You've been gone for uh, was it two years now? Yeah, two years, and ha, _that's _the line you open with?" The Joker tutted disapprovingly.

Batman didn't respond.

The Joker rolled his eyes at him and sighed, "Well, so much for some playful banter," The joker licked his lips. I guess this one's just business,"

There was a silent 'slink', and then within the span of about five seconds, the Joker dropped his burly-looking gun, spun on his heel, and plunged the knife downwards.

Batman was too quick though; He grabbed the Joker's right hand mid-strike with his left, and punched the Joker right in the jaw.

The Joker stumbled a bit, and began to laugh when the blood started seeping out of his mouth. He collected himself, and then ran up and tackled Batman, grabbed his shoulders and slammed batman's head down.

Batman grabbed the Joker's neck with both his legs, flipped him over, and held the Joker in a vise-like chokehold on the floor with batman on top and the Joker on his stomach. The Joker just laughed harder though.

The Joker pushed his head so that it touched the floor, and threw it back up, getting Batman in the nose, and causing his grip to loosen. The Joker freed the arm with the knife, stabbed Batman's arm, pulled out the knife, and rolled over so that Batman was below him.

That didn't last very long though, because Batman used both legs to kick the Joker in the stomach, effectively freeing himself, and in a moment, Batman was back on his feet.

The Joker got up too, much slower, and began chuckling.

"Oh Batsy, let me be the first to say that it's good to have you back," He said, laughing.

Batman lifted his fists and cracked his knuckles tauntingly. There was blood coming out the arm that had been stabbed, but Batman didn't seem to acknowledge it.

Suddenly Batman turned to look at me. I recoiled a bit, shocked. I, like everyone else in the room, had been completely captivated by the battle between the two most infamous people of Gotham city.

The last thing I had expected was to have Batman notice me in any way. But the euphoria was brief, because Batman immediately focused his attention back on the Joker, who didn't seem to appreciate having been ignored.

In seconds, Batman and the Joker were fighting once more, trading blows as much as they dodged them.

That's when it hit me. I was a complete imbecile. Batman wasn't admiring my physique or anything stupid like that; he was trying to tell me something.

I gasped. The device!

I spun on my heel and looked in the direction where I saw it fall. Unfortunately, I turned too quickly, and my head throbbed in protest.

I held my head in my hands and began to massage my temples in an attempt to rid myself of the almost unbearable pain.

Almost.

The wave of nausea cleared, so I began to slowly make my way over to the area in which the device feel, hoping to God that I wouldn't attract too much attention.

I flinched when I heard Batman growl in fury, but then the cacophony of fists smashing against things and what I believed to also be bones cracking, and I kept moving.

Finally I got there, and it didn't seem like anyone noticed; not like I'd know anyway seeing as how my back was turned towards the whole climatic scene.

I threw a look over my shoulder and confirmed my suspicions; the guests remained stupefied by the battle and no one noticed me one bit.

Not wasting one more second, I felt around the floor, my eyes scanning quickly for the little black device. The floor, unfortunately, was _coated_ with dark-colored debris, and so for a moment, I thought I was going to have a panic attack when I realized how difficult the task at hand was, but before I could fully engage in hyperventilation mode, something shiny caught the corner of my eye, and when I turned I spotted the device!

I snatched it from the ground and held it up in the light to get a better look at it. It was extremely tiny, and it consisted of only three buttons. One was _obviously_ the detonator button, seeing as how it was currently flashing red. The others were neon blue and green, and their purpose could not be identified.

Suddenly, the was a loud 'SLAM' and Batman's silhouette flew across the room until his body smashed against the wall, and he landed a few feet away from where I was . . .

Unbelievably though, Batman began to brush himself off and looked as if he were about to stand up, but the flashing red light on the tiny device I held in my hand attracted his eye, and that's when he saw it.

"_Katherine,"_ Batman growled, surprising me.

Wait. Batman KNOWS my name? When did this happen?

"_Katherine, GIVE it to me,"_

"I—"

"Well, that was rather uh, _forward_ of you Batsy . . . but I'm afraid your shoddy pick up lines aren't gonna help you here. That Kat over there's MY property." The Joker stood a yard or so away, and held out his hand expectantly.

I looked back and forth between the two, and without warning, the headache reared its ugly head again, and I almost passed out from the collected pain.

I clutched my head with my hands, and groaned in pain.

"Oh God, Kitty, don't be such a uh, dra-ma _queen_. Come here and give me back my toy." The Joker sounded impatient.

"_Katherine, if you give him that device, good people will loose their lives. You do _not_ want to be responsible for that."_ Batman's voice sounded so rough, it made my throat hurt slightly just hearing it.

I couldn't focus on anything they said though, the pain was so great, I thought I saw my vision blurring slightly.

All I knew was that I couldn't give either one of them the device. I'd heard many controversial things about Batman, most of which didn't inspire very much confidence in me, and Joker was, of course, Joker, so that's out.

I wanted to throw thing to the other side of the room so that I wouldn't have to deal with this right now, but even I could tell that I was only several seconds away from barfing, fainting, or dying. All of which I didn't want to do in front of either of them.

The Joker huffed in annoyance, "Tsk, how troublesome."

The Joker snapped at the goons still in the room, and they flanked him on either side. The Joker began to approach where I was, and so I did the only thing I knew I could do.

I lifted up my arm, and smashed the device on the ground, breaking it. My body finally gave out, and I succumbed to the darkness before my head hit the floor. The last thing I remembered before unconsciousness was the sound of loud, happy, unmistakable laughter.

* * *

_**To make up for the late chapter, I'll make the next one considerably longer than this one. :) Read And review please! Next Chapter coming to you on July 23. **_

_**Reviews inspire me to write faster! **_

_**-SongsThatSerenade7  
**_


	11. For Safe Keeping

**_A/N: Hey Guys, Sorry if i haven't been able to reply to all your awesome reviews, but I promise that next chapter I'll give a shout out to all the reviewers! ENJOY!_**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

* * *

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I woke up to the sounds of voices.

My head.

Oh God, my head was in the process of _murdering _me. I felt each pulse of blood coursing into my head, and each throb was the equivalent of someone kicking me. Hard.

I groaned in pain and rolled over, the sheets made noise as I turned.

My eyes flew open.

"_Sheets?" _I thought, "_Who put sheets on me?"_

A loud gasp sounded through the room, and suddenly a shadow passed over my eyes. I was still in a state of mild confusion, and I had not at all expected someone to respond to me.

"Babe!" the shadow exclaimed, "You're alright! Thank Jesus; you scared the shit out of me! If you ever pull something like that again I'll kill you myself!"

That voice. I know that voice . . . but . . .

I turned over and opened my eyes. The light blinded me at first, but thankfully, the entity's shadow quickly passed over my face to help me see.

The familiar pleasant dark haired, cocoa skinned woman, who wore the angriest, worried look I'd ever seen greeted me.

"Roxanne?" I asked after a moment. My heart rising.

"What the fuck girl!" She exploded.

My eyes widened. What? Did I get her name wrong or something? Why was she so mad?

She began to flail her arms around at me, gesturing incoherently and getting herself all flustered. I couldn't really comprehend what she was trying to convey to me; she just appeared to be babbling about something.

"Girl," I said tiredly, "What are you babbling about now?"

Roxy sighed loudly and began again. Slowly.

"You." She pointed to me, "Put me," She pointed to herself, "Through _hell,"_

"And how exactly did I manage to pull off such a feat?" I asked tiredly. I'm sure my voice sounded raspy and weak. I really needed water.

Roxanne read my mind, because she handed me a tall glass of water before responding.

"Oh I don't know . . ." Roxanne rolled her eyes, "I seem to recall my BEST FRIEND getting kidnapped by the Joker, going missing for, you know a MONTH, stressing me the hell out, and leading me to believe that you died!" Her voice was getting shrill and tears collected in her eyes.

Just like that, I remembered everything, the bank robbery, the kidnapping, the time with the Joker, the thing I had to do at Wayne Enterprises, meeting Bruce, betraying him, and then . . . absolutely nothing.

I sat up for a moment, and then collapsed back on the bed, almost throwing up from the dizziness.

"Oh no you don't. You are taking it _easy_ for a few days. I'm sure you know by now that you have a bad concussion?" Roxanne said it like I was actually planning on trying that again.

"Girl, wait," I said, panic rising in my throat, "What happened? How did I get here?"

That's when I finally looked around the room; my eyes widened in surprise. I recognized NOTHING of this room.

I was in a rather large room, where the walls were painted a dark Periwinkle and were covered with various abstract paintings with modern styled lamplights sticking out of the walls. There was a floor-to-ceiling window to my left, and when I looked out of it, I could tell that it was nighttime.

When I actually saw my bed, I almost did a double take at the sheer size of it. It was circular and looked like it could hold about ten to fifteen people, and each could attain a considerable amount of elbowroom. The covers and pillows were various shades of brown and white, and they were all soft and silky and fluffy under my fingertips. The floors were carpeted, and pure white. Random furniture was scattered around, including a big leather armchair that had clothing and books and other items haphazardly flung onto it.

I assume that that's where Roxanne had been.

I was so utterly confused.

"Where ARE we?"

Roxanne's eyebrows lifted.

"Katherine Harleen Quinzel. Do you not remember _anything_ that happened?" She sounded completely incredulous.

"I—I—" I stuttered, trying to form a competent response. As I tried to think back to the events before I passed out, my head would begin to throb angrily and I would grow nauseous.

"Okay, Okay, there's no need to go into an epileptic fit now," Roxanne said good-naturedly, apparently amused by my pain.

I couldn't help but chuckle with her though. She always had that effect on me.

"I'm glad you're taking so much joy in my pain, girl," She just laughed harder.

"Katherine, excuse me for finding humor in something for the first time in weeks. Honestly. You deserved it,"

"What?" I was horrified. "_She hadn't laughed at all the whole time I was gone? And it's my _

_fault?" _

"What the fuck do you mean what? Did you think I was out partying and laughing merrily while you went through who-knows-what at the mercy of the most notorious killer in the world?" Roxanne asked exasperatedly.

"Babe, I—"

"No girl! Why didn't you contact me? Why didn't you give me some sort of indication that you were ok? I fell into a catatonic depression while you were gone! I have the anti-depressants my doctor prescribed to me to prove it too!"

I gaped at her.

After she said that, it looked like all the energy suddenly left her body. She put her face with her hands and glanced at me through her dark eyes.

"When I saw you collapse after crushing the device at that party in Wayne Enterprises, I thought that somehow you died, and I just—"

"Wait," My heart began pumping loudly in my ears, "What did you just say? I did what? Does that—does that mean that you were there? How the hell did you see that?"

Roxanne exhaled loudly. "Wow, you REALLY don't remember anything,"

It wasn't a question, and I just nodded silently, holding my breath.

"Get comfy. This is a long story."

* * *

_FLASHBACK_

_The Joker began to laugh hysterically as Katherine collapsed to the floor. The sound echoed through the room, and no one moved a muscle. _

_It was apparent that the entirety of the room wasn't aware of the purpose of that little device. It looked like everyone, including Batman, expected some sort of bomb to have gone off in the building, killing each and every one of them within mere seconds. _

_But nothing happened. _

_The Joker's laughter died down as he wiped the tears from his eyes. _

"_Oh, kinda blundered there, Kitty Kat," The Joker finally said, chuckling lightly. _

_Batman shifted in his place, looking to be subtly checking his body for any injuries. _

"_It's over Joker," Batman declared, speaking loudly and clearly, his deep gravelly voice carrying out across the room. _

"_Ha ha! Uh, au contraire, Bat-sy! See, I had the ingenious idea to get those geek squad nerds to install a self destruct proof reaction in the device!" The Joker said gleefully. _

"_That means that uh, you know, it can't really _break_," _

_Batman lifted his chin up ever so slightly, a clear sign of his confidence and strength,_

"_You need to get your eyes checked Joker. She broke it. It's over," Batman said forcefully, finally deciding to rise from the floor ever so slowly; his cape billowing around him._

_The Joker licked his lips and curled his fingers, acting highly irritated. _

"_Now, see Batsy, that's why you're such a party pooper! You tend to uh, not believe me when I. Say. Things." The Joker grinned, "Even if it shattered into itty. Bitty. Pieces. All over the floor, I could still—in a sense, set it uh, OFF."_

_Batman said nothing. _

_The Joker huffed in annoyance. "Oh, MUST I spell out everything to you? That little device over there? See it? Yeah, it was timed just in case it broke," _

_The room grew heavy with the implications of that statement. _

"_Surprise . . . In about," The Joker checked his watch, "Thirty seconds, all of the information in this little oasis of fun will be transferred directly to me." A nasty smile spread across the Joker's face when he said that, "Won't that be absolutely _swell?"

_The Joker burst out into new peals of laughter as the room broke out into sharp gasps and cries of horror. _

_The entire city knew that Wayne Enterprises had ties to secret government projects, and were probably at this very moment collaborating on new weaponry for the special military forces. If the Joker managed to attain this vital information from the company . . . _

_No one saw Batman cross the room until the Joker's body once again made contact with the floor. _

"_Reverse it," Batman growled in the Joker's face, clutching the collar of his purple Jacket. The Joker only laughed in Batman's face. _

_Batman pulled back his arm to punch the Joker, but was kicked away by a goon that somehow got close enough to the pair to attack Batman. Everyone's eyebrows lifted up in shock. They were all familiar with the rumors of Batman's reflexes. So the idea that the goon could pull off such a feat spoke in volumes as to the current condition of their hero. _

_Suddenly, in the Joker's pocket came a loud buzzing. _

_The Joker reached into his coat, pulled out an old Motorola razor and flipped it open._

"_Yeello . . . Oh, Fluffy! How's the family? . . . Oh, right. Sorry about that bub, but you know how dynamite is . . . yeah," The Joker's face darkened and he licked his lips, "Is. That. So? . . . hmm . . . whelp! You had a good run ol Fluffy, say hi to the big man for me huh?" _

_The Joker signaled to a goon to his right who nodded, and sent a quick text on his phone. The Joker didn't manage to flip his razor closed before the sound of a gunshot rang through the speaker. _

_No one knew what just happened. Apparently something had gone terribly wrong, but the people were not quite sure whether or not that it was a good thing or a bad thing for them._

_The Joker looked calm. Too calm. He looked like how psychopaths did before they skinned someone alive or violently slaughtered their prey. There was no doubt that the Joker was furious. In fact, the inhabitants of the room began to try to inch away from the unstable man without attracting his attention. _

_But the Joker said nothing. He calmly walked around the room until he stopped in front of his previously abandoned monstrous gun, picking in up and scrutinizing it under his gaze. He then pointed the gun at the nearest person, who just happened to be the same goon that had been torturing one of the guests earlier. _

_The Goon dropped his heavy weapons and tried to make a run for it, but he didn't make it four steps before something similar to a sonic boom sounded, and the goon's body was reduced to nothing more but a smoldering pile of ashes on the floor. _

_The Joker had no time to react, because in that second, Batman appeared and ripped the gun from the Joker's hands, turned around, and hurled the powerful weapon out of the nearest window. _

_The glass shattered instantly when the gun collided with it, and the open air revealed the sounds of police sirens and ambulances heading towards Wayne Enterprises._

_Batman and Joker stood face to face in a standoff, both acutely aware of the fact that no one was going to win tonight. Again. _

_They both stood like that for a few more heartbeats before a strange look crossed the Joker's face. The Joker curled his body upwards and stretched out his arms, yawning as he did so. _

"_You know Batsy," The Joker said, grinning, "All that plotting and scheming and yadda yadda yadda has me tired out! I think I'm gonna uh, turn myself in to the pigs. I'm sure that returning to my good ol comfy cell back in Arkham will do _wonders_ for my delicate psyche." _

_Batman continued to say nothing. His body gave away no emotions and his lips were clenched together in a tight line. _

"_However," The Joker continued, "I will be taking back my little pet Kat over there," The Joker gestured towards Katherine who was still lying on her stomach on the floor motionless, no signs of life except for the steady rise and fall of her chest._

_Batman flinched slightly, and I could see his face itching to turn towards her. _

"_You're not going anywhere with her," Batman growled. _

_The Joker laughed aloud. "What do you care Batsy? She's uh, MY property," The Joker licked his lips, "I can do whatever the fuck I want with thatt bitch," The Joker eyed Batman carefully, "That is, uh, unless you . . . have something to say about it?" _

_Batman said nothing. _

_The Joker clucked his tongue, "How uh, in-ter-est-ing."_

_The Joker spun around on his heel._

"_You and you!" The Joker yelled abruptly, pointing to me and another goon, "Go put the girl back in the van like we planned," _

"_Yes boss," The goon said. _

"_Yes boss," I echoed quietly, hoping to God my voice could somewhat pass for a burly man's._

_The Joker's head tilted a bit in confusion, but he let it go. _

_Batman dashed over to stop us from taking her, but the Joker, anticipating his reaction, unsheathed his switchblade, reached down, and sliced Batman's leg, in one motion, effectively stopping him._

_Batman crashed to the floor in pain, and when he tried to stand back up, he fell back down again after a few steps._

_I rushed over to where Katherine was, and together, the goon and I picked her up by her arms and legs, carried her over to the door on the other side of the room, and pushed her through. _

_I let the goon who was pulling Katherine's arms lead me for a bit. _

_Everything was quiet in the building before I heard a large group of people bust down the doors to the main hall and begin yelling. We kept walking though, and soon, the sounds of gunfire and horrific screams faded to silence. _

_I thought that it was time to get rid of the other goon. _

"_Uh, hey bub," I growled, sounding something close to a chain smoker rather than a man as I had initially intended, "I got her—go back and help the boss," _

_The Goon with the blue frowny facemask stopped moving. _

"_What the fuck? The fuck you do to your voice man? You chew on some cement sticks or some shit?" _

"_Fuck you man," I retaliated confidently, "I just be sick," I coughed a bit in an attempt to prove my statement, "Anyways, go. I got her. You need to go help boss,"_

_The goon shook his head, "No way man, I ain't goin in there, they got cops. Didn't ya hear?" _

_I began to panic, and tried to come up with something else to say before he got suspicious. _

"_Then . . . uh, you should go down to the van to prep if for us. That way it'll uh, be much quicker," _

_The goon seemed to consider my idea. _

_I pushed on. "This way, nothing'll sure to go wrong. You wanna talk to the boss if we both don't get out with her in time?"_

_That did it, the goon mumbled something incoherently under his breath and placed Katherine in my arms before running out in the supposed direction of the van. _

_Even though I could barely support Katherine's weight enough to stand up, I held it together somehow, and almost sagged with relief. Finally. _

_I looked down at my best friend who was curled up comfortably in my arms and tears sprung up in my eyes. I had been so worried about her throughout the entire ordeal I had almost blown my cover on a number of occasions. Her zombie-like trance, her almost getting choked to death be the Joker, her passing out onto the floor . . . _

_I didn't get to finish my thoughts, because they were interrupted when someone hit me from behind, and sent me tumbling down hard onto the floor. _

_I clutched Katherine to me instinctively though, hell bent on protecting her. _

_I felt someone pulling at my arms, trying to get me to let go of Katherine. I resisted against the strong grip, my eyes squeezed shut, grunting with effort. When the entity finally pulled one arm free I cried out in fear. _

_At the sound of my voice, it paused. I opened one eye, and saw none other, but THE Batman standing over me, looking menacing and intimidating. Suddenly, he reached a hand down to my face, and before I could scream or react in any way, I was relieved of my mask. _

_I couldn't help but look up at Batman, never having been that close to the man himself. I'm sure I looked terrified, but I refused to let Katherine go. I worked much too hard to save her and I wasn't about to let anything else happen to her without a fight, even if I was sure to loose against him._

_Batman reached down for her again, and I pulled her away from him protectively. _

_That made him pause. I thought that he could sense that I wasn't about to release my best friend anytime soon, because I could've sworn that I saw his lips pull into a tiny smile. _

_The next moment, Batman pulled out something from his utility belt, and held it front of my face. _

_I didn't have the time to blink before he sprayed the mysterious substance in my face, and then the world went black._

_END OF FLASHBACK_

* * *

"The next thing I knew . . . I was in this room, laying next to you on that bed," Roxanne said, finishing up her incredible story.

I was dumbfounded.

"Wait. Just . . . Just wait," I tried to sit up slightly so that it would be easier to talk to her, "You mean to tell me," I began slowly, "That you somehow managed to NOT ONLY get inside the party, but entered as a part of the Joker's gang, _dressed up_ in a goon's costume, chosen to carry to the van, stopped by Batman HIMSELF, and defied him. For me?"

The words sounded incredible even as I was saying them. My brain refused to believe that someone would go to such lengths in an attempt to rescue me.

"I mean, when you say it like that . . ." Roxy sounded a bit sheepish. She reached down under the bed and pulled out some colorful fabric.

She held it up against herself, and what I saw blew my mind. My best friend had somehow constructed a perfect replica of a goon costume, complete with the ripped fabric and dirt and blood smudges.

My mouth hung open dumbly and my eyes grew to the size of saucers. I blinked a few times as raw emotion flittered through me all of a sudden. I couldn't help but think of how lucky I was to have her for a friend.

I looked at her and my throat closed up slightly. "How long did it take you?" I asked softly.

She shrugged a bit before answering, "I don't know, after a few days of not sleeping to work on this I kinda lost track of time," She said noncommittally.

"But—but it's so perfect!" I exclaimed, marveling at it, "I mean, what reference did you use?"

"Aleks helped me,"

I rolled my eyes as the familiar distaste washed over me at the sound of that name.

"Hey!" Roxanne protested, quite aware of my disliking to her current (and hopefully temporary) boyfriend, "Without him his wouldn't have worked out as well!"

I sighed. It's amazing at how the mere mentioning of his name could change my entire demeanor.

"I hope the nincompoop doesn't expect some sort of compensation for his '_heroic' _deeds," I air quoted the word 'heroic'.

Roxanne looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Well . . . I mean . . ."

Anger rose up in my gut, and I was about to flip a shit before the door swung open revealing an old man carrying two trays of food in his hands.

It was Alfred!

"Miss Jackson, Miss Quinzel, I've brought some food for you. Mister Wayne should be up in a few moments," Alfred announced calmly. He placed the food down on a table near the door before turning around to open the door again.

Roxanne and I were equally speechless.

"Oh," Alfred said, turning back around, "There's a phone call for you from your cell phone in the foyer Miss Jackson, and young man requested your presence,"

Alfred held out his hand to Roxanne, who continued to gape at him stupidly. Either she knew whose butler he was, or she just wasn't expecting someone like him to enter the room.

She looked back at me, and through her shock I saw her silently asking for permission from me to go talk to Aleks. Deep inside, I knew that she was probably worried about him, and so despite my own wishes, I waved her off to go talk to him.

She continued to stare at me for a few more moments, making sure that I was truly okay, before turning to take Alfred's hand, and letting him lead her out of the room.

The door shut behind the two, but before it could fully close, a hand shot out and held it open. In stepped through a man of whom I got to know very well.

Bruce Wayne.

* * *

A/N:

_**Alright guys, this time, i think i'll update about a week sooner than usuall, just because i've gotten a head start on the next chapter. Or it'll be longer. One of those. :) **_

_**I really and truly appreciate all the reviews! CRITIQUES WELCOME! ;)**_

_**-SongsThatSerenade7  
**_


	12. The Great Escape

_**Hey Peeps and Peepettes. This chapter is the longest I've done in a while, and I hope you enjoy it~!**_

**_Also, I think I'm going to begin giving props to those who review my stories, so I'd like to thank Le Bijou, CorporealPresence, ra1nf1re, and Bookluvr888! I really appreciate it!_**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

* * *

"Oh good. You're awake."

Bruce strolled through the entrance quietly and gracefully. So much so, that he did as if he had been born to perform that one move his entire life.

He was wearing casual loose-fitting dark blue jeans that somehow arranged itself to fit perfectly against his shapely legs, and he was currently in the process of straitening out his crisp, white-button down shirt, giving me the impression that he had recently just put it on. His hair looked a bit scruffy and messed-up, like I assumed it would if he'd just recently woken up, and there might've been the slightest hint of a five o' clock shadow on his face.

In short, he looked like sex on a stick; A very tall, dark, lean yet still muscular, handsome beyond belief, sexy, stick.

"I woke up almost an hour ago." I responded distractedly, taking in the way his clothing hung on his body.

Bruce's eyes swept around the room quickly, searching for something. He glanced at me for a moment, and then continued his search.

"Are you hungry?" He asked still spinning around looking, "I thought I'd asked Alfred to get you some food, but maybe I—oh." Bruce finally spotted the two trays of food on a small table right behind him, and I could've sworn that I saw a hint of color flash over his cheeks before it went away.

Bruce ran his fingers through his dark hair, which only served to mess it up further. I had to blink a few times because I became momentarily speechless from the sheer masculinity and sexual prowess that practically oozed from his body.

I looked up at his face only to see that his mouth was moving, and belatedly realized that he was currently in the process of trying to tell me something. I then took a second to get my mind out of the gutter and focus on what he was saying.

"—ink it might be best to get you into a shower. I'm sure you'd like one after your whole ordeal."

I almost moaned in happiness at the thought of finally getting a chance to take a_ real _shower with warm water, and not one of those—those _hoses_ that I was forced to use when I was with the Joker.

Bruce was looking at me a bit strangely, and in that moment, I prayed to God that I hadn't _actually_ moaned at the thought of a shower. Bruce stood up a bit straighter and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Well, I'm sure you'd like some privacy to change. Shower's down the hall to your left," Bruce gestured vaguely in that direction, "and feel free to help yourself to anything you see in there. I'll just . . ." Bruce began to turn away to leave.

My mind finally lifted from a deep haze long enough to allow coherent though to process through it. I had questions for Bruce, and I had to ask them before I forgot.

"Bruce!" I called, perhaps a bit too urgently.

Bruce flipped around, his eyes wild and he searched my body for any injuries. I waved his eyes away and cleared my throat. I was still in great need for water. Bruce saw this, picked up a glass of water from the tray Alfred had set down, and in two long strides, crossed the large room to hand it to me.

I gulped down the contents greedily before thanking him. Bruce waited patiently for me to finish, probably sensing that I had more to say.

Once I finished the water, I took a deep breath, and stared him down summoning what I hoped to be my strongest I-will-not-accept-any-bullshit-from-you face, and steeled myself. Bruce began to look a bit weary, but I ignored his caution and gathered up the questions I had for him.

"How long have I been out?" I asked with dread.

"Almost twenty-four hours."

All the air in my lungs suddenly whooshed out. _A day!_ I'd been completely unconscious for an entire _day_? Immediately, My mind began to spin in about a million different directions, trying to wrap itself around the implications of that. I couldn't even begin to think of all that I could have missed while I was out. The Joker could've been shot down for all I knew, and the police could've caught on to my involvement in his schemes. Hell there could be a warrant out for my arrest and-and-

Bruce was watching me freak the fuck out over this and he quickly came to put a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. Slowly, my heart rate stabilized.

"Alright . . ." I conceded, still getting used to the idea, "But, how _exactly_ did I get here?"

Bruce thought for a moment about how to answer that, before sighing deeply and taking a seat on the edge of the large, circular bed and bending at the waist to put his elbows on his knees.

"How much do you remember from what happened at Wayne Enterprises?" Bruce asked quietly.

"Nothing."

Bruce blinked in surprise at the casual tone of my voice, before quickly recovering.

"Oh." Bruce chuckled lightly and ran his fingers through his hair, "Well then, um, wow, so much to say, where do I begin?"

"How about at the end?" Bruce looked at me, once again surprised. He then tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, asking me a silent question.

"Roxanne." I answered as way of explanation.

The confused look he wore melted from his face when he heard the name, and his lips formed the shape of a little 'o" of recognition. Bruce then shook his head good-naturedly and smiled at me.

"I take it you've met her. . ?" I ask tentatively.

"I have." Bruce confirmed, chuckling a bit. I raised my eyebrow questioningly at him and he continued to shake his head. He then looked away from me as if he were lost in a memory.

"That girl would not allow me in this room longer than ten minutes," Bruce mused, "She kept questioning me about my intentions towards you, and she fretted over your sleeping form like a mother protecting her child." Bruce chuckled deeper.

"Never in my life have I seen someone so fiercely loyal to another like that," Bruce turned a thousand-watt smile my way, "and I thought her glare alone would incinerate me on the spot."

I found myself smiling at that, because only Roxanne would act that way. Not that I wouldn't do the exact same thing for her . . .

"What I don't understand though," Bruce continued, snapping my attention back to our conversation, "Is why your friend didn't immediately tell you where you were?"

I smiled sheepishly and cleared my throat.

"Uh, well, I'm not sure if she actually acquired that information or not; she'd been a bit preoccupied by her anger with my irresponsibility and lack of communication while I was . . . _away_."

I gave him a meaningful look.

"Ah." Was all he said.

"Anyways, what I meant by 'start at the end', was that she had already filled me in on what happened in Wayne Enterprises after I passed out right up she herself had gone unconscious,"

Bruce looked taken back for a moment but quickly recovered himself. "Well," Bruce began, "since I wasn't really around when your friend . . ."

"Roxanne." I supplied.

"When your friend Roxanne passed out, I can't quite continue the story from that point, but," Bruce paused to stare directly into my eyes, "I can tell you what happened to Joker . . ."

The sound of his name alone sped up my heart. Not necessarily for the reason one might expect . . . Well, maybe that too, but it mostly stemmed from anxiety and fear.

I sat up a bit in the bed and tried to inch a bit closer to Bruce, ensuring that nothing he was about to say would be missed, and at the same time keeping my promise to take it easy. Bruce caught this and took it as confirmation to begin.

Bruce gave me a hard stare. "First, I wanna know just how much you've been told."

I took a moment to remember Roxanne's story. "All I know so far is that I was sent out with Roxanne and another goon to be taken to a van that was hidden somewhere outside the building after I destroyed the Detonator" I said, "She told me that they barely had enough time to get away before they heard what they thought to be the police bursting into the room and shooting off multiple rounds."

"Okay good. I'm sure I can provide you with a sufficient amount of information from that point, because here's where things got interesting."

Bruce glanced at me one more time before engaging in the story.

"Well, your friend was right, the police did enter the room. However, they certainly weren't the ones to initiate all that gunfire. _That_ began via the Joker's panicked henchmen, which, in itself wouldn't be _too_ strange under the circumstances, but the Joker apparently wasn't the one to send off that attack. The madman just stood there and observed the entire ordeal. One of the officers said that the Joker looked angry, but that was pretty much it. His mind wasn't attached to the situation at hand, and when the officers finally took him in, he just held out his hands and let them cuff him. Although," Bruce looked directly at me when he said this, "that furious expression never left his face—no hysterical laughing, no secretive smiles, just pure, unadulterated rage."

There was a pause.

"And you think I was the source of all his fury." It wasn't a question, and the look on Bruce's handsome face said it all.

Bruce put his head in his hands and then ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. He looked pained when he finally spoke.

"Actually," Bruce said with a sigh, "I _know_ that you were the source."

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

Bruce didn't respond. Instead, he climbed onto the bed, shocking the hell out of me, and reached over to the other side where there was a small table with a lamp and a remote controller that I hadn't noticed. His proximity allowed me an unobscured view of Bruce's chiseled torso, and I was helpless to do anything but admire his strong physique.

Bruce then pulled away and sat back in his previous spot. He pressed a button on the remote, which served to reveal a large television set that appeared when the wall to my left flipped around, only to reveal what was probably the largest flat screen TV I've seen outside of a movie theatre.

Bruce pressed a few buttons, and then we saw a pretty reporter standing outside of Arkham jail with a short, pudgy man dressed in white robes behind her; what caught me though, was the disturbingly haunted look in the man's eyes.

"…_Patient 4055, currently known as the Joker is being held custody over at Arkham; a holding facility in Gotham City for the mentally unstable. Reports came in about the madman, saying that he hasn't uttered one word since the twenty-four hours he's been here. Police seem to say that 'He looks like he might be planning something', but the doctors over at the facility haven't been successful in communicating with him. _

"_I have here with me Dr. Van Goodman, a psychologist who has been assigned the Joker's case."_ The reporter turned around to face the man who fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"_Now, Dr. Van Goodman, the public wants to know. Why do you think the Joker is acting this way? Do you think he's plotting something? Was he injured mentally? What's your take on the situation?" _

The reporter flung the microphone into the poor man's face and looked to him eagerly. Dr. Van Goodman regarded the reporter nervously and pulled on the collar of his dress shirt.

"_Well, patient 4055 is a rather . . . ," _The doctor searched for the right word, "_delicate . . . case. But, in all the years that we've seen the patient in this hospital, we've never quite encountered him . . . as such." _

"_Yes, well do you think caused this change in the Joker's demeanor?" _The reporter asked impatiently.

"_Well, keep in mind that the joker didn't REALLY change TOO much. For example, he still engages in, um, 'mind games' with the other doctors . . . he's just darker." _Dr. Van Goodman looked as if he were gathering his wits about something important.

I looked over at Bruce questioningly, but I couldn't catch his eye—he was too focused on what was going on in the news.

"_The major change with patient 4055,"_ The man finally said, _ "is that apparently he . . . keeps calling out for, uh . . . his pet cat." _

There was a pregnant pause as the realization began to dawn.

The reporter looked a bit angry. "_The Joker, the madman, sociopath, serial killer is in Arkham calling out . . . for his pet cat?" _The reporter looked to be in pure disbelief over the matter. She'd obviously been expecting something much more revealing—Like a confession, or perhaps even a _name. _

The look on the doctor's face though, told me that he knew just how insignificant it sounded, and had a hard time believing it himself.

The reporter frowned and faced back towards the camera. "_Well,"_ The reporter sighed, "_There you have it folks, the Joker's missing his pet cat. Join us for more on this story right after a word from our sponsors." _

The show went to commercials, and Bruce turned off the T.V. The wall flipped back around and a heavy silence coated us.

I was finding this situation I put myself in to be a bit difficult to swallow. I can't imagine how I could've possibly fucked up so bad to land myself here. I do recall smashing the little detonator back at Wayne Enterprises that night, but in Roxanne's story, she made it seem like the Joker wasn't all that affected by it.

But of course I did something. I always find a way to fuck up. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't get him to want to kill me sooner!

"Hey, Look at me." Bruce said. I turned towards him only to see him frowning at me as if he had heard my thoughts. "I can see that whatever you were just thinking, it's wrong, and you need to stop."

I only sighed and shook my head slightly.

"Yeah, well, this is unbelievably typical for me to get myself into these types of situations."

"Katherine," Bruce reached over and took my chin in his fingers forced me to look at him, "_listen_ to me. You did _nothing_ wrong. You hear me? Nothing. That—that . . . ," Bruce gestured vaguely to the space where the television was, "_thing,_ isn't human, and is often highly irrational. It's obvious that you have no clue as to why he would have reason to be upset with you, so there's absolutely no reason to blame yourself blame yourself,"

"I obviously did something wrong." I protested stubbornly with my chin still tucked in his fingers.

Bruce gave me a dour look.

"You saw him!"

"Yes I did, but Katherine, he could be angry with you for a number of different reasons. They don't all have to be because you were at fault."

I chose not to respond to his words, because deep down I knew inexplicably that I was I who messed up. If only I could just remember what I did to—

"Regardless of the reasoning behind the Joker's hostile behavior," Bruce said suddenly, "I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure your safety. That is why I decided that you'll be residing in my mansion with me for a while."

My eyes widened to almost comical proportions. I blinked a few times. Clearly I had misunderstood him. Do I _live _here now?

Bruce flushed a bit upon seeing my reaction to his words, and was quick to correct himself.

"Well, not necessarily with me, in _that_ way, just consider it as us . . . room mating in order to protect you,"

My expression didn't change.

"Okay, maybe not quite like that either," Bruce amended quickly, "Just consider it a kind deed from a friend. I'll make sure that living here will be a simple partnership between—By partnership I mean friendship. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I wouldn't mind a—not to say that my intention was for you and I to become partners—not that there would be anything wrong with that. You're a very beautiful woman and so of course I, um—"

At that point I couldn't hold back my smile. This was coming from the guy rumored to be the smoothest Casanova type Alpha male in the city.

Bruce's face reddened slightly and that's when I had to cover my mouth with my hand to hide my full-fledged grin. Who knew that such a sexy man could act like this?

'_Roxanne would love to see this,' _I thought, highly amused.

Bruce looked like he was getting prepared to say something to defend himself again, but before he could get the words out, the door burst open unexpectedly revealing a rather frazzled-looking Roxanne, eyes wild with fear, a phone clutched tightly to her chest.

She couldn't speak for a few moments, but finally she swallowed and told me the worst possible news I could hear at this time.

"The Joker . . . Katherine, the Joker, he—he escaped!"

My heart clenched deep within my chest.

"What?"

My eyes flipped wildly to the area where the television had been and I gestured at it frantically. "But! But! We _just_ saw the news, and they acted like the Joker was still incarcerated in Arkham!"

"That was only a recording of a previous broadcast." Bruce muttered quietly from his place in the room.

"WHAT!"

Bruce didn't seem all that perturbed by my blatant panic attack. In fact, he handled that information quite well for someone who was currently harboring the target of the most notorious madman Gotham City has ever seen.

I, on the other hand, couldn't quite manage to breath correctly as of yet. I almost began hyperventilating when Roxanne spoke again.

"I was on the phone with Aleks and he had the news on, so he saw the broadcast and told me about it. I ran right up to tell you as soon as I heard." Roxanne was looking at me with that wow-this-is-sucks-for-you-how-do-I-make-you-feel-better sort of expression.

Roxanne looked back down at the phone still clutched tightly in her hands, and pressed a button almost apologetically. I think she might've realized that Aleks was still on the phone and hung up on him.

I didn't have much time to decipher any of the events occurring around me though; I was too busy planning my funeral in my mind.

"Hey now, none of that." Bruce scolded, once again reading my mind, "I've already told you that you're going to be placed in protective custody here at my manor right? I predicted something like this prior to you waking up, so I've already taken care of everything. And you do not have to worry. The Joker is _not_ getting in here without me knowing it." Bruce seemed so confident in his words, I almost snorted.

"Now come on. A good shower will do you both some good. In fact feel free to make use of my newly installed bath houses and spa recreational center," Bruce turned around and gave me a charming smile, "Help yourself to any and all of the benefits provided by Alfred and the other staff while you're here, okay? I want you to be comfortable,"

'_Well,'_ I thought cynically, _'At least I'll be refreshed and rejuvenated when the Joker comes to slaughter me.'_

Roxanne took it upon herself to come to the bed and practically drag me out of the room towards the direction of the bathhouse. She tried to distract me from the situation by talking about how we've always wanted to take a spa day, and how this place is the better equivalent of a 5 star bed and breakfast hotel.

I couldn't quite get up the energy to share her enthusiasm though.

Maybe I'm being paranoid, but it's starting to seem like nobody understands the Joker. I was _not _convinced in the slightest bit by Bruce's words. When the Joker has targeted you, history has proven that he will go to any lengths, and that means ANY lengths to get you.

I sighed deeply. I just hope that he'll be merciful enough to spare everyone else's lives.

Speaking of which, I turned around to check to see where Bruce, and saw that he'd disappeared.

I halted abruptly and groaned, smacking my head in the process. Wow I'm an idiot.

"What? What is it?" Roxanne asked worriedly.

I looked at her and sighed. "I never got to ask Bruce how we both got here."

* * *

The Joker listened in on the scene with great disinterest. He had been hearing the bumbling so-called _Doc-tors_ argue over him for the past few hours now. Those idiots had no clue that they were being overheard.

They'd tried to put him in one of those straitjackets when he had first arrived at Arkham, but he made quick work of that by 'convincing' one of the nearest _doc-tors_ to relieve him of it. So far, no one's tried to put it back on, and that fact made the Joker smirk.

Currently, the Joker was in the interrogation room, sitting behind a large brown table, drumming his fingers impatiently while his hands were cuffed as he was plagued by thoughts of _her._

The Joker fought the urge to snarl in fury, because the Joker was_ indeed_ furious-angrier than he could ever remember himself being. But more than that, he felt an emotion beyond his own comprehension. He felt betrayal.

Which of course, was ridiculous in itself, because in order for one to feel betrayed, there had to have been trust or some other frilly emotion somewhere in the picture. Which is impossible, because the Joker did not _trust_ peo-ple. _Trust,_ is for the suckers. You pull down your painstakingly built defenses for someone, _trusting_ them to love you, to care about you, to protect you . . . the Joker inwardly smiled.

He'd definitely used 'trust' to his own advantage on people many times in the past, which, unfortunately for them, often ended with a bullet in their heads, or a knife in their backs.

And _that_ is why the Joker couldn't for the life of him understand why he would even think that he might've _trusted_ her. He knew better than to do something stupid like that.

The Joker did feel betrayed though. Deeply so. In fact, he felt his anger rising again as he thought of how that slimy cow had double-timed him with the playboy back there. But what did he expect? She was a _woman._ He knew on a personal level how susceptible they were to a little flirting here and there, and once that bachelor got his hands on her . . .

The Joker grew frustrated with the whole situation. Initially, he'd wondered if she'd made a mistake, and the whole fiasco was an accident, but he quickly expelled the idea, because he knew how he inspired fear in her, and he was sure that she would've made sure to be careful.

That is, unless she _wanted_ to mess up.

He tried not to think about that right now though, because as the Joker_ looked_ as if he were not-so-calmly waiting for the _doc-tors_ to stop their incessant bickering, he actually had something much more pressing to get to, which first involved him getting out of this hell.

There was a commotion outside of the room, and in moments, the door opened to reveal a tall, burly looking man dressed in all black, with his eyes covered by dark sunglasses, and a silver pistol hooked onto his belt strap.

The Joker was not impressed.

Dr. Van Goodman poked his head inside the room nervously to address the burly man. "Are you sure you can handle him, Jake? This patient is known to be quite," The doctor paused, searching for the appropriate terminology,_ "tricky,_ to deal with."

The Burly man only smirked and stood up a bit straighter, his hands clenched together behind his body in a military-like stance.

The Joker tilted his head curiously, and for the first time since he'd arrived, revealed a bit of interest in the situation. The doctor saw this, and grew considerably more nervous.

"Yes, well. I'm sure you'll have it all under control." The man squeaked, "I will return shortly. A patient just caused a lot of chaos in the dining hall, and they called in all the doctors just in case."

The Joker smiled at that and made a mental note to add a little bonus to Scarecrow's cut when the opportunity arose.

Dr. Van Goodman waited for some sign of acknowledgement from the guard, and when receiving none, gave up and fled out of the room so quickly, one would think the devil himself was snapping at his heels.

Once the doctor was gone, a heavy silence filled the room.

While it was obvious that both men were sizing each other up, the Joker was much less discreet about it, and took the time to shift his body around in his chair, and tilt his head to get a better look at him.

"So I hear yer that Joker character everyone's been talking about." The guard mused, his voice deep and gravelly.

The Joker, having expected to be the first one to break the silence, was surprised.

"It speaks!" The Joker exclaimed, bringing his hands up slowly on the table. When the guard didn't react, the Joker licked his lips, "Is uh, that what you heard? No, see you have it all wrong. I'm just a regular good ol' sim-ple-ton."

The guard unclasped his hands, and made his way over to the table where the Joker sat. He then extended his hands and placed them both flat on the surface of the table, leaning in closely. There was no doubt that this was an attempt to intimidate the Joker, and the Joker brought up a hand to his mouth, and yawned as if this were the most boring action in the world.

"You can't fool me." The man practically growled. "I know who you are, and I'm not going to let you go without a fight." Jake's indifferent disposition broke, and now all of his emotions were written across his face, clear as day. "I take this job. _Very. _Seriously."

"Yeah, that was a very cute speech," The Joker said rolling his eyes, "and I'd love _nothing_ more than to come up with some witty retort to that, but, you see, I have an _un-be-lie-vably_ important rendezvous with some 'friends', and I'm gonna be late if I don't leave soon. So uh, if ya don't mind . . ."

The Joker then made a move to standup, but was quickly thwarted by Jake, who stuck his hand out and pushed the Joker back down onto his chair. The Joker eyed the man incredulously. _Clearly_ the guy was NOT familiar with the way things worked with the Joker.

The burly man moved in close to the Joker's face, and scowled. "I already told you _clown_. Yer not going anywhere."

The Joker paused for a moment, thinking of a good way to deal with this waste of oxygen, before smiling and bringing his hands together above the table.

"Well!" The Joker exclaimed, licking his lips. "In uh, that case, how about a good ol' card trick while we're here, eh?"

"They told me you didn't have anything on you."

"That's because I _didn't._ _This,"_ The Joker held up a new deck of cards, "I got a little souvenir from the oh-so gen-er-ous doctor that had released me from the jacket. So pick a card."

The Joker took out the deck of cards and messily spread them out facedown on the table. Confused, but willing to participate in something that would distract the Joker, the tan, dark haired guard pulled out a card in the pile.

The Joker then collected all the cards from the table, and put them in a stack in his right hand.

"Now, uh, take a _reeeal_ good look at your card, and put it back in the deck whenever you're ready."

Jake took a second to glance at it, and then stuffed it back into the deck, somewhere around the middle. The Joker split the cards, and spent a good minute or so, doing some elaborate card shuffling.

Jake appeared to have calmed down somewhat and was perhaps even entertained after the Joker finished shuffling the cards.

"Now," The Joker said, picking through the deck of cards, "Is . . . this. Your card?"

The Joker held up the three of spades. The guard smirked. "No."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"Well," The Joker twirled the card around in his hand once, and the face of the card changed to the Joker symbol. "What about now?"

Jake recoiled violent from shock and made a grab for the card in the Joker's hands.

"Ah-Ah!" The Joker scolded, "There'll be none of that. Here, take a close look and I'm sure you'll uh, be able to see how I did it."

Jake, who was now baffled beyond belief, wasted no time and moved in close to scrutinize the card in the Joker's hands. "No, no, no!" The Joker exclaimed, "You'll never be able to see it from that far away!"

Jake inched in even closer.

In one swift and powerful motion, the Joker grabbed the guard's neck, and flipped him over the table belly-up. The Joker used his handcuffs to choke Jake, and shoved the card into the inside of Jake's cheek with his right hand.

"Aw! Jakey-poo! I thought you'd put up a little more fight!"

The Joker laughed hysterically, and dug the card in deeper, making Jake wince in pain. Jake began to struggle in the Joker's grip, but with every movement he made, he chocked himself against the chains of the handcuffs, and the Joker dug the card in deeper.

The lack of oxygen to Jake's brain sent him into immediate panic mode, and the man became incapable of logical thought.

The Joker had of course anticipated this, and was quickly calculating a way to bring the poor man to his ultimate demise. Should he snap his neck? No, that would be MUCH too typical. Should he slice his face up? Maybe, but the way things were going now, the Joker might just end up choking him to death.

"Jake, Jake, Jake. You must've seen this coming." The Joker scolded in a calm voice, "After all, I am the uh, Joker. But I'll tell you what. Just to be a good sport, I'm gonna tell you a story. Wanna know how I got these scars?"

The Joker didn't give him a chance to respond. "When I was little, I had a Dad. And a Mom. And a simply _darling_ older brother." The Joker licked his lips. "But all was not well in this cute lit-tle Brady bunch of a family. You see, remember that uh, brother I told you about? Yeah, well, we never quite . . . got. Along."

Jake tried to break free again, attempting to punch the Joker in the face, hoping that he would be distracted enough to loosen his grip somewhat. Unfortunately, the Joker had also anticipated this move, and grabbed the offending fist, twisted it, and pulled it down so that Jake was choking himself as well.

"Well that was rather rude!" The Joker admonished, "Here I am taking the time to tell you a bedtime story before you go to sleep, and you interrupt me!" The Joker pulled on the arm that was wrapped around Jake's neck violently, and he began to make painful choking sounds.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes. My big bro and I weren't very close." The Joker licked his lips. "See, My brother had . . . issues. Yeah. Men-tal issues; he got physical with me at times, but darling old Mom and Dad _never_ punished him for it."

The Joker looked down at Jake's body casually, as if the man wasn't dying. "But I never let that get me down, no sir. _I _was the happy one in the family." The Joker paused and licked his lips again thoughtfully. "My brother never liked that."

Jake struggled even harder now, as he grew light headed from the little oxygen he was receiving. His breath came out in short wheezes and his eyes grew wild.

"Shh, shh! Hush now, you're ruining the moment." The Joker said, laughing. "So one day, I came home after a long of day of school, happy as a clam, and there I found my brother, leaning over the bloody carcasses of my mom and my dad with a bloody butcher's knife in his hands, and blood splattered all over his shirt." With every word, the Joker pulled down Jake's arm just a little bit further, choking him just that much more.

"As the little tyke I was, when my mind finally put together the pieces, I threw myself onto my brother, tried to fight him, and oh ho!" The Joker looked into Jake's eyes, "Was _that_ a mistake."

"My brother wailed on me again, and again, and again, _and again_, until my face was so bloody and bruised you couldn't tell me apart from a bruised eggplant." The Joker laughed, "So as you can probably guess, I wasn't smiling quite as much after that."

"My brother then took his knife, placed it inside my cheek just like this," The Joker mimicked his words, and put the sharpened Joker card inside of Jake's cheek, digging it deep into his flesh, "and . . . !"

Jake shut his eyes tightly and froze, waiting for the pain. When none came after a few seconds, he opened one eye only to see the Joker looking down at him, highly amused.

"I wasn't finished." The Joker stated as if way of explanation. "The story does have a happy ending though, but I won't get into those details, let's just say that my brother now spends his days decomposing at the bottom of the ocean, _and I_ became the most notorious villain in the world! See? Happy!"

"The point of this story though," The Joker continued, "is that you remind me of him. My brother that is; same intimidation tactics, same level of intelligence, _ev-er-y-thing."_ The Joker pulled on Jake's arm some more.

"I think I'm gonna do the world a favor, and rid of my brother. Again. We can't have those kinds of crazy, homicidal maniacs running around here, can we?" The Joker laughed loudly, before releasing Jake and shoving him down hard onto the floor.

Jake sucked in huge gulps of air greedily, his face beet-red, couching on his hands an knees, but he didn't make a move to pick himself up from the floor. The Joker observed him pitilessly, and checked the dirt under his fingernails.

"I'll tell you what Jakey," The Joker said, "just because you've been _such _a good sport, I'm gonna let you choose how you want me to kill you, 'cause to tell you the truth, I've been a little torn about it myself."

Jake turned his head at the sound of the Joker's voice, but still he didn't dare look up at him.

'_What a uh, macho man,'_ The Joker thought sarcastically.

"Now!" The Joker exclaimed, "What could possibly be behind door number one?" The Joker held up the playing card that had been held against the inside of Jake's mouth for the last ten minutes.

"I give you five seconds to get up and out of this door before I throw this card at you; the edges are bladed just in case you didn't already know that, and I may or may not hit a major artery, leaving you to bleed to death on this pretty little cement floor." The Joker smiled brightly, already favoring this outcome.

"Or?" Jake croaked.

"Or," The joker echoed, pausing dramatically. He then pulled out a silver pistol, and pointed it right at Jake's head. "I use this gun and blast your brains out of your skull. No chance of escape, no misses, quick. And. Pain-less."

Jake palmed himself for the gun that he'd carried with him into the room, and was surprised when he found that it was missing. "What's it gonna be?" The Joker asked, "The longer you wait to decide, the more uh, trigger happy my hands get."

Jake stared into the barrel of his own pistol and immediately came to a conclusion.

"The card."

"_The card!" _The Joker exclaimed happily. "I was, uh, hoping you'd say that."

Without any further preamble, the Joker put the pistol down on the table, picked up the card, pulled his arm back and threw it at Jake.

Jake's eyes widened exponentially. "You said I had five seconds!"

The Joker smirked. "Yes, and I gave it to you, I just uh, didn't specify _when_ I'd start counting,"

Jake's hands flew up to his neck instinctively, but strangely enough, no skin on his neck was broken, and this realization brought a half-crazed, half-relieved smile to his face.

"You missed!"

The Joker guffawed loudly. "You think so, huh?"

Jake sat there dumbfounded until he felt something trickle down the side of his leg. He looked down, only to see that his thigh had been sliced open, in the exact spot where his femora artery is, with the card wedged into his body, and the wound bleeding profusely. Jake stared at the wound on his leg for a few moments, terrified into immobility.

"Well," The Joker finally said, stretching his arms over his head, "This has been fun." The Joker paused, grabbed both of Jake's wrists in one hand, and cuffed him to the table, making it now impossible to close the wound and stop the bleeding.

"What—How!" Jake snapped out of his trance and thrashed against the handcuffs, which only served to cut up his wrists.

"But uh, I've got places to go, a city to terrorize, and oh!" The Joker mimicked looking at a watch, "I am _so _late!"

The Joker then walked casually to the door, but before he exited, he turned back around to face the now terrified Jake. The Joker pointed to his bleeding wound. "You know, you really _should _do something about that, because from the looks of it, you're not going to be getting an-y help, any-time soon."

And with that, the Joker strolled on out of the interrogation room, down the halls of Arkham, and crossed through the front doors of the facility, without anyone trying to stop him.

This, of course, was mainly due to the fact there wasn't anyone around to stop him. They were all still otherwise preoccupied with other matters in the insane asylum.

The Joker paused outside of his van filled with his eternally loyal goons who were just waiting to take orders from him. The Joker gave them all a nasty smile.

"Now," He began, "If you were a scared little Kitty Kat, where would you hide?"

The police stood outside of the crime scene in the interrogation room in Arkham, and observed as the specialists searched the body for clues.

"How do ya figure he died?" One asked.

"Looks like something cut him." Another man answered morbidly, "And then he must've bled to death."

"Hey boss!" One man called from across the room, "You're gonna wanna check this out. I think we got us a clue."

Police chief Gordon approached the young man, his face hard set, and his back rigid. He laid his eyes on the object in young man's hands. When he saw it, he took a deep breath and feared the worst.

In the young man's hands, was a single, sharpened playing card. The Joker.

* * *

**_A/N: And there you have it folks! Next chapter, more things come together . . . time for a little reunion maybe? *Chuckles darkly* _**

**_-SongsThatSerenade7  
_**


	13. Surprise Visitors

**_Hey Poeple! First of all, I'd like to thank those who reviewed my last chapter, so thank you StarsandUnicorns, SweetiXoX27, Magentamagician45, LucritiveXWishesX, TwilightFanatic, and Girlofmelancholy for reviewing! Second, I've begun school, so that's why this chapter's a bit late. I hope you enjoy it though!_**

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

* * *

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"You know you can't keep avoiding him like this, right?"

I sighed for the billionth time that day, as I sat in the vast, amazingly chic and comfortable kitchen with my best friend Roxanne, in the process of eating the delicious sandwiches she prepared for us. She, like myself has been confined to Bruce's mansion for the past three days.

It was still hard to believe that _three days_ had passed since the Joker's escape from Arkham. It feels like the whole city is holding their breath, waiting for a car to explode, or the mayor to be kidnapped, or someone important to die. Paranoia raced all across town when news got out about the Joker's escape.

Not to say that such a thing wasn't practically anticipated, seeing as how this wasn't the first time he's escaped from captivity . . . or the second time.

Roxanne and I found out quickly though, that being stuck in Bruce's not-so-humble abode wasn't too much of a sacrifice on our parts. After the first hour here, we'd been relaxing in the indoor spas, watching movies in the theatre, Playing tennis on the outside courts, eating gourmet food prepared by the chefs (Though I still prefer Roxanne's food to theirs), trying on the clothes that had mysteriously appeared in our closets, and avoiding the main tenant.

Or at least,_ I_ was avoiding him. Roxanne chatted him up immediately, and they became somewhat friends.

"Avoiding who?" I asked a bit too innocently.

"Oh, please," Roxanne scoffed, "You know who I'm talking about. Who else?"

"I'm not avoiding him!" I lied, my voice going up three octaves. Roxanne gave me a look.

I cringed. "That obvious?"

"You spun on your heels and practically ran down the hallway when you saw him come around it today!"

I sighed. I hadn't meant to avoid him, I just couldn't look him in the face since . . . the incident.

"So you walked in on him while he was in the shower." Roxanne said, reading my mind, "It's not like you saw anything!"

I shushed her violently and spun around, half expecting Bruce to be right behind us, listening to our every word with that signature smile plastered on his face. My cheeks grew red as I remembered what happened. The house was so vast that I got a bit lost trying to find my room the first night, and when I found a door in an area that I thought seemed familiar, I peeked my head inside to check.

The absolute _last _thing I expected was to see an enormous bathroom, high ceilings, a Jacuzzi bathtub, waterfall showers, yes _showers_ as in more than one, covered in beautiful blue marble. Unfortunately, I was so distracted by the luxury of this bathroom, that I failed to realize in time that some one was using on of the showers, and of course that that someone had to have been Bruce.

I spotted him in there, as he was rinsing himself off, and though he didn't appear to have noticed me, the little paranoid Kitty inside me told me otherwise.

I stood there idiotically for what felt like hours but what was probably a minute or so, admiring his naked physique, until I came to my senses and got the hell out of there.

Thinking back on that moment, I don't _think _I saw anything _too_ scandalous. There was a lot of steam and whatnot, and his . . . front, was tilted away from my peeping eyes at the time. Still, I know he knew I was there, and since then I've been actively avoiding him.

"Are you listening to me?"

She snapped me out of my thoughts and brought me back to our conversation. Deep down I knew she was right. Bruce has been so gracious to let Roxanne and I stay here with him, especially since Roxanne didn't really _need _to be here, she simply refused to leave my side while I was in danger.

"Yes, I'm listening." I replied warily, "What exactly do you expect me to do about it though? I can't just waltz into his room randomly and say 'Top of the morning to ya Bruce! Sorry about walking in on you in the bathroom. My bad.'"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not one hundred percent sure if he noticed me!"

Roxanne frowned at me. "I thought you said that he knew you were there." I paused for a moment, thinking of how I could explain it to her.

"I know he did . . . I didn't actually see him see me, I just—it's hard to explain."

Now it was Roxanne's turn to sigh. "Girl, just talk to him. But!" She threw her hands up when it looked like I was about to protest; "You don't have to mention . . . the incident, if you don't want to."

I didn't respond for a few moments.

"Besides," She continued, "He so obviously likes you it's hilarious."

THAT got my attention. "What!"

Roxanne rolled her eyes at me. "Oh please!" She exclaimed exasperatedly. "As if that fact was not unbelievably obvious!"

"What makes you say that?" I asked her, my voice growing shriller by the second.

Roxanne gestured wildly around her. I looked around. Right, I sighed, the whole 'stay with me in my mansion' thing is a bit suspicious.

"Just because he kindly suggested I stay here with him in my time of need doesn't mean he's interested in me!" Wow. My defense sounded weak even in my own ears. Roxanne stood up straighter, and crossed her arms over her chest; a move she grown accustomed to whenever she was preparing to argue with me.

"Really? Why couldn't he have relocated you to some other city or something? Change your name? Start up a new life? Why stay _here_ in this house specifically?"

"He said he wanted to protect me, and this house has a really high tech security systems and state-of-the-art technology to fight against intruders."

"Girl. This is _the Joker_ we're talking about. He's escaped holding facilities and mental _prisons_ with security systems that not even the best criminals could escape. What makes you think you're any safer here than you are in our apartment downtown?" Roxanne raised her eyebrows at me, daring me to contradict her.

I grew exasperated. "Girl, give it up. There's absolutely no reason that the guy would go for me when he literally has hundreds, if not thousands of beautiful women from around the world, _throwing_ themselves at him whenever he so much as blinks at them?"

"Katherine, you'd have to be blind, deaf, and dense as a brick wall to not see it!"

I opened my mouth to ask her what it is I don't see, but Roxanne threw her hands up in defeat before I could get anything out. "Alright. Whatever. He doesn't like you. Right." She gave me a hard stare. "I still think you should talk to him though, if not only to apologize for avoiding him after everything he's done for you."

Ah, and there she went, playing on my guilt. I knew without a doubt now that regardless of my paranoia, I'd go seeking him out once I finished eating, and by the triumphant smirk on Roxanne's face, she knew it too.

She stalked out of the room after I didn't respond, and threw me a grin and a wink before leaving.

I threw my sandwich at her.

* * *

I soon found myself following Alfred's instructions to Bruce's room not twenty minutes later. I had to climb at least two flights of stairs, walk down maybe three hallways, and try four doors before I finally found it, though, all the while cursing this house for being so easy to get lost in.

I approached the door, knocked on it lightly, and waited for any sign of life. A moment or so passed before s faint "Come in." sounded through the door.

I entered the room cautiously, only to find Bruce sitting on the edge of another extraordinarily large bed, intently watching the news from the floor-to-ceiling flat screen television directly in front of him. He didn't even spare me a glance when I came in, which is understandable seeing as how I've been acting towards him as of late.

I stood there watching for a minute or two, trying to decide whether or not my presence was really that necessary right now. Just when I almost had myself completely convinced by the silence that Bruce was disgusted by my mere existence on this Earth, he raised his hand and silently beckoned me to him.

I warred internally with myself for a few more heartbeats before remembering what I came here to do. '_No chance to back out now.'_ I thought sadly.

I slowly and silently approached his unmoving form, taking care to observe his body language before getting too close. Bruce finally turned to look at me, and threw me a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and I could tell that whatever he was looking at, it was highly stressful for him. He gestured to a spot on his left, and I took it, smoothing down my black and white floral print dress before sitting. I was embarrassed to notice that I was wearing one of the new dresses that I found in the closet of my room with Roxanne. I hoped to God that if he noticed, he wouldn't say anything, because I don't think I'd be able to handle any more awkwardness with him.

Bruce cursed loudly and threw down the remote for the T.V. in frustration. I bit my lip nervously, immediately feeling very awkward before clearing my throat.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, his voice resonating through the once silent room. "I guess I'm just as paranoid about the Joker as everyone else in the city."

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I opted for silence instead, inwardly kicking myself for my cowardice.

Bruce turned to look at me, studying my face a bit uncomfortably. Desperately trying to think of a way to break this weird spell, I struggled for something to say.

"Why are you so focused on finding the Joker?" I blurted. Bruce looked taken aback. Finally he broke eye contact with me, and looked away.

I cursed myself for being so stupid. Who in the right mind would ask a question that was so obviously touchy to someone like Bruce!

"Listen, Bruce, I—"

"I guess you can say," Bruce paused, as if searching for something. "that The Joker and I have a sort of history together."

I nodded as if I understood what he meant. While that overly mysterious answer had my mind jumping to about a million different outrageous conclusions, it really wasn't my place to pry, and I was very reluctant to start what might grow to be a very heavy conversation.

"I think a better question would be," Bruce suddenly said, turning his whole body around face me, "why did you choose right now to change your mind and finally speak to me?"

I opened and closed my mouth repeatedly, successfully imitating a fish, while struggling to get my brain to function over the surprise. Bruce began to laugh.

"What? Did you assume I hadn't noticed?" He sounded a bit incredulous. I sighed. I _had_ been that obvious. Bruce seemed in rather good spirits about it though, surely he must be somewhat offended by my behavior?

Bruce had stopped laughing but he was still smiling, and at that moment, I was randomly a bit struck by how handsome he looked to me. That's also when I took notice of his attire. He was wearing a white wife-beater shirt, and some loose-fitting denim jeans. His dark hair was ruffled a bit and I assume he didn't shave today, because there was a hint of a shadow on his face.

My whole body began to feel warm. How could someone possibly manage to be so extraordinarily attractive, intelligent beyond his years, young and rich! I realized I was openly staring at him a moment too late.

"Katherine?" He called my name as if he was trying to wake me up from a deep sleep.

I blinked once, twice, three times before I was consumed by my all-encompassing embarrassment. I had to force myself not to hide my head in my hands, and instead, accomplish what I came here to do.

"Yeah. Hey. Sorry about that, I just—I just came here to apologize, because the way I've been acting has been absolutely inexcusable and immature beyond belief."

"Katherine, it's—"

"I can't imagine how furious you must be with me. God, I've been utterly insufferable!"

"I'm telling you, it's—"

"—But honestly I am so sorry, and I promise to—"

Bruce laid his hand on my shoulder, effectively silencing me. He looked at me, full eye contact and everything, and smiled. "It's fine. Really."

"No, but it's really not."

Bruce chuckled "Trust me. It is."

I frowned at him stubbornly. "How can you say that when you don't even know _why _I was avoiding you?" Or at least I was praying to God that he didn't know why.

"Hmm," Bruce responded, eyes cast off as if he was in deep thought/ "It would have had to be something particularly bad for you to completely go out of your way to evade me."

He grinned at me wolfishly, "Are you going to tell me what it was?"

Was he . . . flirting with me?

"Uhh," I answered oh so eloquently. Bruce leaned in to hear me better mockingly. That's when it hit me, and I knew he knew. My heart absolutely _sank._

"I _could_ tell you why, but," I studied Bruce's face for any giveaway, "I think you already know."

Bruce smiled at me, and chuckled a bit before nodding his head in confirmation. As he chuckled, my face grew three times redder, and I absolutely wanted nothing more that the floor to swallow me up whole.

"I didn't see anything major!" I exclaimed, desperately trying to redeem myself. I realized that this was absolutely the wrong thing to say in this situation, because Bruce's grin widened considerably.

"Oh?" He asked, sounding a bit curious. I bit my lip, waiting for him to catch me on my mistake.

Bruce was looking at me, and slowly he sobered up, his whole demeanor changing as he leaned towards me and set those dark, smoldering eyes on my face.

"And," Bruce paused, his voice husky, "what exactly . . . _did_ you see?"

I didn't know whether or not he was joking around with me, and I honestly had no idea as to what might be the appropriate response for something like that. I could look away from him and he had me mesmerized by his eyes. There was absolutely no escape.

My body felt _hot. _

Bruce's face grew softer by the second, as he looked at me; and I mean really _looked._ His eyes finally rested on my lips, and I hoped to God he wouldn't kiss me, because I'd either become a pile of mush at his feet or I'd jump him right then and there.

Oh God, was he closing the space between us? How could this possibly be happening? We've only known each other for a few days and I was already—

He suddenly got so close to me that I could smell his cologne; he smelled like new leather and some other masculine spice. Everything that was happening was so sensual and tantalizing that my mind grew foggy and all logic threw itself out the window. Nothing mattered more that this moment, right now.

But he was closing the distance between us so slowly that I was tempted to crash my lips into his and begin this—whatever this was, with ferocious intensity.

Mere centimeters of air were the only things separating our faces. My breath quickened and my skin was tingling everywhere, anticipating what was probably going to be—

"Master Bruce, phone call from—"

Alfred stopped mid-sentence, when he saw the scene before himself. Alfred bowed deeply and began to excuse himself from the room before Bruce blew out a large sigh, and pulled away from me.

"Impeccable timing as always Alfred." Bruce said sarcastically, "What is it?"

"Forgive me, master Bruce," Alfred had the good grace to look sheepish, "but I'm afraid you have a rather urgent, um, phone call from police chief Gordon concerning some issues with the . . . company."

Bruce reacted strangely, and glanced at the window. Immediately, he stood up, and grabbed the nearest coat that was lying haphazardly on a leather chair beside the bed.

My face was positively _burning_ with embarrassment and frustration. How in the world was I supposed to face Alfred now? What must he think of me? And fucked up was it that I was so _close _to—to something only for it to be pulled away from me at the last moment!

I could still feel my body tingling, and my lips felt unbelievably sensitive.

"Hey." Bruce called to me, his body only halfway inside. I turned to him reluctantly, and made eye contact.

I was not prepared for what I saw. He was looking at me as if he was just barely restraining himself from acting upon his desires. His eyes were absolutely smoldering, and shivers ran up and down my spine from the way he was staring intently at me.

"When I come back, do you want me to finish what we started here?"

I found myself nodding, eyes wide and lips shut tight. Bruce grinned at me. "I'll be back." He promised, and those few words were all I needed for a whirlwind of images and fantasies to invade my mind; ones which would probably grow and develop there until he returned.

The soft click of the door finally snapped me out of my trance, and I exhaled. Wow.

* * *

Bruce hadn't returned that night, and finally, after a bit of waiting, I decided to return to my room. A breeze hit me as soon as I stepped in, and I realized that the window was open.

I tried to remember a moment where I might've opened the window in my room, but quickly assumed that Roxanne must have done so when we were last here. I went over to it and closed it shut.

Something tickled me in the back of my mind, a feeling that couldn't quite shake, but I dismissed it quickly when I realized just how tired I was.

Not ten minutes later I was heading for bed, and for the first time since I'd arrived here, I dreamt about a certain, familiar sociopath that way currently out for my blood.

* * *

I woke up in the middle of the night, shivering from some unknown chill. As always, when I woke up, my thoughts were hazy and indecipherable. All I could gather from my dream, was that the piercing black eyes of the Joker.

Strangely though, His eyes didn't bother me. I felt no fear, no anxiety. In fact, I felt somewhat comforted. As if he were watching over me protectively.

My lips curled in amusement and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at myself. '_I am so screwed up'_ I thought exasperatedly.

I flipped over to somewhere in the middle of this lake of a bed, the large, thick, fluffy comforters engulfing my tall frame like chicken in a burrito. I sighed deeply after a few minutes, coming to the realization that I wasn't likely to sleep again for quite a while.

I didn't feel like getting up though. I was content to just lie here in bed and recap everything that happened to me within the past two months. I got a chance to present my art in galleries (which in fact, did leave me with a lot more money in my bank account); the Joker kidnapped me . . .

Those memories with that madman were the most confusing for me. I cared for him much more than was thought to be normal, and the time spent with the guy, when he wasn't threatening to kill me of course, was actually . . . pleasant? Amiable? Dare I say it . . . fun?

But then there was the barely restrained fury in his eyes after than night at Wayne Enterprises. The only thing I remember I could've done that might've pissed him off was smashing the detonator, but judging by Roxanne's story, he'd been prepared for something like that, and was otherwise unfazed. So what—

I hear a door creak open.

'_Bruce! He must've returned from his meeting!'_ Was my first thought.I felt a little thrill run down my spine at the implications of his presence, and I was battling the urge to flip over, run up to him, and more or less tackle him to the ground. The problem was that I didn't want him to think that I was _waiting _for him or anything pathetic of thee sort, so I immediately dismissed the idea, and decided that I was going to wait for him to make the first move before I reacted in any way.

It felt like all my senses were on high alert, and the silent anticipation was close to crippling. My heart raced in my chest furiously, and if I didn't know better, I could've sworn that my body was vibrating from it.

Finally, I felt the heavy comforter of the bed being lifted, and judging by the amount of rustling it took, he was getting in all the way. Suddenly, there was warmth on my back, and I froze, my mind kicking into overdrive.

'_What do I do?' _I thought frantically._ 'Do I keep pretending to sleep? Is he going to do something?"_ I suddenly wished that I'd worn something sexier to sleep rather than the mismatched baggy T-shirt and shorts that I was sporting.

I felt him inch closer to me, and almost instinctively I snuggled into him, welcoming his warmth. But he did nothing, leading me to believe that he either wasn't sure I was awake, or he was waiting for me to make the first move. I weighed the options of just giving in and acknowledging his presence in my bed, or holding out on my desires, and amplifying our emotions from increasing the anticipation.

My desires won out though, because I honestly could not take it any more. In one move, I flipped over, and buried my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

I frowned. That's strange, he smelled like rain and spice, rather than the sexy cologne he was wearing earlier. I pushed myself even closer to him, daring to even slide my leg in between his in an attempt to be seductive. He began to chuckle deeply.

"Uh, wow. If I knew you were gonna be _this . . . _frien-dly, I would've come for you. Much. Soon-er."

It was like somebody doused me in a vat of ice-cold water. As comprehension dawned on me, my throat began closing up, and the fear seeped in.

"Though," he continued. "I believe you might've been. . . expecting someone else?"

He grabbed me tightly, and spun me around to face him, confirming my fears. The Joker had found me. It was dark in the room, but the light from the window shone on his face, illuminating his distinctive features. He seemed different to me then—a little less stable.

I couldn't scream, I couldn't move, I could do anything but look at him. His hair looked greasier, his make-up even more cracked and messy; red lipstick running wild on his face, making that signature smile, and the eyes like dark cesspools of hatred and fury.

I heard the 'chink' of the blade before I saw the knife. His hand shot out, and he clutched my neck tightly, while simultaneously holding the blade at my thigh with his other hand. In the back of my mind, I knew that there was a major artery in that location, but my mind was fixated on the man in front of me, who was in a great position to kill me.

"Is that it?" The Joker questioned. "No fighting? No pleas of mercy? No tears? How booooooring! C'mon, Kitty I know you have it in you!" The Joker shook me roughly.

Then it was like my brain began to work again. I scrambled to quickly thin of any escape possibilities I might have had. Could I distract him? Get him talking? I knew what I wanted to ask, but I was failing at getting the words out. He was looking at me expectantly; growing angrier by the second. He then dug the knife at my thigh a little deeper, finally eliciting a response from me.

"Why!" I exclaimed a bit too loudly.

"Why, uh, what?" he responded, licking his lips.

"Why are you doing this?"

The Joker growled angrily and squeezed my neck tighter. I gasped in pain and tried desperately to suck in some air. The Joker got right in my face and smiled, and because of our close proximity, I could feel his breath on my face.

"Well. You see Kitty, funny thing happens when you double cross a killer," The Joker barked out a laugh. "You. Get. Killed."

"Tell me," The Joker sneered. "was he good in the sack?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

The Joker rolled his eyes. "Don't play coy! The Playboy! The debonair! Mr. Big bucks! How was he in the sack?" The Joker gave me a once-over. "Clearly not _that_ good."

Shock radiated through me and I felt my jaw drop.

"Careful, or you'll uh, catch _flies." _My mouth closed with a snap., and I began to babble like an idiot.

"What-! You-! We didn't-! It-! I didn't have sex with Bruce!" I yelled shrilly. _'Well not yet.' _A little voice in my mind added.

The Joker snorted, which was a very strange thing for some one like him to do.

"I didn't!" I protested.

"You're living in his house, Kit-Kat. What? Did he uh, hire you as his _maid _or some-thing?" The Joker licked his lips, frowning.

"You're lies are boo-ring, Kitty," The Joker sighed. "What do you say we make things in-ter-resting, hmm? We're going to play a game. It's called, Lie and Die. Now, to uh, _play _this game . . . and live, I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to have to be _very, very_ honest."

The Joker looked to me expectantly, and so after a moment I nodded wearily.

The Joker beamed. "Good! First question. Are you in uh, _cahoots_ with . . . The Batman?"

That question took me by surprise. Batman? THE Batman?

"No."

The Joker looked at my face in the dim light of the room, and apparently, confirmed that I was telling the truth.

"Did you reveal the location of my uh, _safe_-house?"

"No."

The Joker laughed loudly. "Smart girl." He said sarcastically.

That insult stung me a bit. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to try and tell somebody something, but somehow I felt compelled to keep those things secret from the police. Not to mention that it was practically considered certain death to rat out someone like the Joker.

"How long were you planning on sabotaging me?"

I swallowed and paused, knowing exactly what was about to come. "I wasn't planning on sabotaging you," I whispered.

The Joker's lip twitched. "Oh? So it was just a uh, _spur_ of the moment type thing?" The Joker's voice grew deathly calm, and slowly I felt his grip tighten on my neck, and his knife dig into my thigh.

"I gave _you_. SPECIFIC instructions for the plan, and you just suddenly . . . decided to betray me?"

The Joker's voice was rising in intensity as the moments passed, and my mind was scrambled to think of some way to neutralize him.

"I—"

"SHUT UP!" He yelled, his body shaking with fury. The Joker then pulled the knife up from my thigh, shoved me so that I was on my back and he was above me, and held the blade to my face.

"You are going to _suffer, Kitty. _You've never known pain, but by the end of the night, you two will be very. Well. Acquaint—"

_SMASH! _

The Joker collapsed on me, his whole body weight on my chest, effectively cutting off my air supply. I gasped, not knowing what had just happened, but within moments, he was off. I turn towards the door, and standing before me, was my savior who held a broken vase in one hand, and an unconscious Joker in the other. My heart lifted.

"Roxanne?"

She looked up at me, her eyes just as wild as mine, panting as if she'd just come back from running a marathon. She gave me a quick once-over with her eyes before dropping everything, including the Joker, and throwing herself at me.

"BABE! I thought that—when he said—you could've been—" He words were cut off by her sudden tears, and I could practically feel and the fear and anxiety exit my body in one big exhale.

I hugged her back and shook my head incredulously. What would I honestly do without this woman? She somehow found me and risked her own life to save me from what was sure to be an extremely painful death. I felt my emotions clog up my throat, and I feared for a moment that I too would begin to cry.

Fortunately, Roxanne pulled away from me, and jumped up from the bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

Roxanne turned around to face me, her eye now frantic. "Oh, I dunno Katherine, you may not have noticed, but there's an unconscious psychopath lying on the floor after he'd just threatened to dismember you! I'm going to make a sandwich! What the fuck do you think I'm gonna do?"

She opened the door, and left the room, leaving me there with the body. That's when I realized that I had no intention of exposing the Joker's location to the authorities.

I threw the covers of the bed off of me and literally leaped up and out of the room. I ran after Roxanne in the hallway, who was walking impossibly fast, and literally tackled her to the floor before she reached the staircase.

She shrieked and went down hard. We both groaned in pain and I flipped over onto my back. Roxanne glared at me.

"What the_ fuck_ was that all about!"

"I—huff—couldn't let you—huff—call the police." I wheezed. I hadn't run that fast since Bruce chased me down the hallway of Wayne Enterprises. And before that—never.

"Why not!" Roxanne shrieked. "He was _going _to _kill you!_"

"I know, I know! It's just that—I—We—It's complicated." I sighed, suddenly tired beyond belief.

Instead of pursuing the matter, Roxanne scrutinized my face, looking for something. I began to sweat under her intense gaze after a while, her dark eyes searching my face for clues. After about two minutes, her eyes grew impossibly round and she sat up angrily.

"Ugh!" She exclaimed. "You're in love with him!"

"WHAT!" She couldn't possibly know that. That's not it. I can't be _in love_ with the_ Joker!_

"Don't pull that shit with me, babe," She yelled, angrier than I've ever seen her. "I know you better than anybody, and believe me. It's written, _every_where on your face!"

"I'm not in _love_ with him!" I protested, my voice sounding weird in my own ears.

"Oh yeah? Well what do you call it when you try to protect someone who not _five _minutes ago was about to slice your face open! Loyalty!"

I wanted to argue with her, I knew I could if I tried, but I felt that for this she wouldn't have given up, and judging by the look on he face, the truth would do me more good that fighting with her would.

So I said nothing, and my silence confirmed it for her. In a second all her anger evaporated, and she just looked really defeated.

After a few moments, she took a deep breath, and exhaled. "Alright," She said. "What are we going to do with him then?"

I looked at her incredulously. "You're going to help me?"

"No. I'm just gonna leave you alone with this and have you deal with _hiding a fugitive; _which is against the law, mind you, alone, because that's the type of friend I am."

"So you're going to break the law for a man who just moments ago was prepared to kill me?"

"No, I am going to help my imbecilic best friend hide the man she loves who just moments ago was prepared to kill her."

I felt completely overwhelmed with my love for this girl, and a very teary, goofy smile broke out on my face.

"But!" Roxanne continued, looking serious. "If we get caught, you better do anything, and I mean _AN-Y-THING_ you can to get Bruce to bail us out. I don't care if you promise him sex and marriage, I am _NOT_ getting incarcerated in this city."

I laughed loudly and grinned. "Hmm . . . I think that could be arranged."

* * *

**_A/N: Only a few more chapters left! And review please! All reviewers get shout outs on the next chapter~~!_**

**_Cookies and Candy, _**

**_SongsThatSerenade7_**


	14. Coming out of the Closet

**_To prove that I didn't die, here's your long-awaited chapter, and to make up for the wait, it's longer the longest chapter I've written in a long time. :) Enjoy!_**

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**Chapter 14**

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**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
**

In the end, we decided to keep the Joker's limp, unconscious body in my unbelievably vast closet. We agreed to keep him in the corner nearest to the door, so that if anyone decided to pop their heads in, they wouldn't see him unless they went inside.

We tied him up with as much cloth as we could around his torso, arms, hands, knees and feet. The end result resembled something out of a psychiatric ward in an insane asylum, except that the doctors used feminine sweaters and tops as material for the straightjacket. We weren't stupid though; because we made sure that his arms were clutched behind his back tightly, away from each other, and plastered to his sides so that it would at least be immensely difficult for someone to get out of it . . .

But then again, this is the Joker we're dealing with, so honestly, we're shooting in the dark on this one.

"Babe! Hold up your fucking end! I feel like I'm practically picking him up bridal style!"

I turned to look at my partner in crime and best friend Roxanne, who so graciously offered to help me carry his body into my closet, which was surprisingly not as short of a distance as one would normally assume.

Damn Bruce and his unnecessarily spacious quarters.

"Sorry, girlie. I guess I'm just a bit . . . terrified of him waking up, so—"

"Have you _seen _thebump on his head!" Roxanne argued immediately. "I honestly doubt he's going to be conscious _any time_ soon."

I released the breath that apparently I had been holding. I knew she was right. The Joker did appear to be pret-ty unresponsive . . . not to say that I was about to behave recklessly, though. So without commenting on Roxanne's statement, I adjusted my grip only slightly, hoping that she would catch on to my anxiety.

She did of course, and with a heavy sigh, she held even more of the Joker's weight, so that I could focus on cradling his head in my arms.

Eventually, we managed to get him into the closet and set his wrapped up body against the wall. It wasn't the best arrangement I admit, but honestly, it was either this, or keeping him in the bathtub of my bathroom, and at least this way, I still get to shower without the constant fear of being seen naked by him.

A strange shiver ran up my spine at the prospect of the Joker watching me undress, and I momentarily forgot that I was still within the presence of my best friend, who, of course, immediately picked up on my strange behavior.

Roxanne peered at me suspiciously. "What just happened?" She asked.

I knew what she was trying to ask me, but I dodged the question.

"Well," I sighed. "We kinda just tied up an unconscious psychopath in my closet—"

"No! No! Not _that."_ Roxanne rolled her eyes at me._ "_I remember THAT. I was _there_ for all of it after all." Roxanne stopped us after we exited my room by putting a hand out, and turning me around to faced her directly.

She gazed right into my hazel eyes and gave me her 'I'm-not-going-to-take-any-bullshit-from-you' face.

"I meant what just happened to make you shiver like that? And don't try to tell me it was from fear, because those lies are NOT gonna fly with me. Ya hear?"

I only sighed deeply. From that one reaction though, I knew that Roxanne understood.

"Babe!" She exclaimed.

"I know! I know, okay?" I screeched desperately. "I am fully aware of my mental disability okay? I know that what's happening is unexpected at best, I mean, who in their right mind would—would—"

"Fall in love with the most notorious murdering psychopath in Gotham City?"

I groaned loudly, my hands flying to my face from the shame. I heard Roxanne heave a huge sigh.

"Well what about him?" She asked me in a flat voice.

"What? What about him?"

Roxanne hesitated a bit a shuffled her feet. "Does he love you too?"

The thought alone was enough to make me burst into loud peals of laughter. Roxanne's eyes went wide with surprise in reaction to my spontaneous behavior, which only served to amuse me further.

"Oh . . . yeah," I managed between my fits of chuckles. "I bet almost choking me to death and preparing to torture me was just some sort of kinky foreplay."

Roxanne kinda snickered a bit, but didn't respond right away. After a few moments, I regained my composure, and opened my eyes to see her standing with a serious look on her face.

"How long are you planning on keeping him here?" Any trace of a smile I had slipped right off my face.

"Or better yet," She continued, "How long do you suppose you have before Bruce catches wind of it? What even makes you think he doesn't already know about it?"

A cement block settled itself in the pit of my stomach at the prospect of Bruce finding out about the Joker. I wasn't sure exactly what his connection was with the madman, but his reaction to the Joker's escape was quite severe, and that put me a bit on edge about informing him of anything.

I didn't respond to her question right away, as I was still weighing my options. I finally settled on a solution. Or . . . somewhat of a solution.

"I'm only going to keep him here for two nights. I just—I just need to figure out a few things with him, you know? I need to understand why he's so—angry."

Roxanne gave me that you-are-so-gonna-get-busted look, but didn't say anything. We finished the trip down the hallway to her room a few seconds later.

It was at that moment I remembered that I still had no idea how Roxanne knew that that I was in trouble.

"Wait." Roxanne turned to face me.

"How did you know that I needed help?" I asked, still a bit astonished by it.

Roxanne's face broke out into an infectious grin. "I couldn't sleep." She responded. "Something felt wrong, so I went to go talk to you about it to see if I you felt the same. That's when I saw him . . ." Roxanne made a vague gesture to illustrate the awkward pose we were in. "And then I held him talking about killing you. I freaked." She shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

My body shook slightly from my laughter, and I gave Roxanne one more big hug.

"G'night Miss Jackson." I said jokingly, as it became our new thing to mock the way that Alfred said goodnight to us.

"G'night Miss Quinzel." She returned with a smile.

The walk back to my rooms was not a pleasant one. My mind kept drifting to all sorts of scenarios that involved the Joker being discovered and me going to jail. My life would be absolutely demolished; no artistic career, no money, I'd be considered a traitor by the entire city . . . by Bruce . . .

And just like that a maelstrom of paradoxical emotions associated with that name washed over me. The matter of Bruce was definitely still up in the air. What exactly were my feelings for him?

I definitely care about him, that's for sure. And the attraction is definitely present 100%, no doubt about it . I mean, how could I possibly resist? He's rich, intelligent, handsome beyond belief, classy, and in some ways highly intense.

My mind then began to go over all the ways that Bruce could turn his intensity for other tasks—

I shook my head violently_. 'Now was not the time to fantasize about the sexy bachelor whose house I was currently residing within. Especially not with the Joker hidden away in my fucking closet!' _I admonished myself violently.

One second later, I was swept up off my feet, and clutched to a hard chest. That one motion scared me so bad that I couldn't help but screamed bloody murder.

A familiar, rich, velvety voice chuckled deeply. Bruce held me bridal style in his arms as he strode down the hallways in the direction of my room.

"I'm sorry," He laughed. "I guess I got a bit _carried _away."

I smacked his arm and he only laughed harder. "I nearly died!" I screeched loudly. Bruce then laughed so heartily that I could feel his body shaking as he carried me. When I saw his face as he held my body up against his chest, laughing so genuinely, I was dazzled; he looked so light and carefree in that moment with his eyes crinkled and his white, gleaming teeth flashing, that I was at a loss for words.

As cliché as it sounds, I don't think I've ever seen something so radiant on a human being in my entire twenty-three years of life.

Bruce caught me staring at him, and stopped laughing.

"What?' He asked curiously, His voice still held a hint of a laugh in it.

I shook my head, a bit embarrassed. "Nothing." I replied quickly. Bruce narrowed his eyes playfully at me.

"Don't give me that. What were you thinking? You had the strangest expression on your face just now." Bruce gazed directly at me, and there was literally no place to turn seeing as I was currently being carried by this surprisingly strong man.

"You're beautiful."

I blurted out the words before they could register in my mind. My face drained of all color, and I wanted nothing more then to shrivel up and die right there. I was so embarrassed, I felt a bit sick.

Bruce's smile slipped right off of his face, and he suddenly became very serious.

_Beautiful? 'You're beautiful'!'_ I internally screeched. _'Who says that to a man? Who says that to Bruce? Oh my God, kill me now; you'd be doing me a favor.' _

I barely caught that Bruce had said something.

"What?" I asked on reflex. Bruce smiled and looked at me.

"I said, 'Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.'"

My eyes locked on his, and it was like someone took a bucket and rinsed away everything else in the world except for him. A pleasant warmth slowly crept up my body, and it was all I could do to not smash my lips to his right there and then.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I admonished quietly.

Bruce chuckled but didn't break eye contact. He paused for a moment before his smile grew wider.

"I think we both know that's a lie."

My face hurt with the strength of my smile, and I covered it with my hand from embarrassment. Bruce frowned at me. "Don't do that, I wanna see it!"

I didn't respond and I kept my hand firmly in place. Bruce shook his head and smiled good-naturedly.

"This is not going to work," Bruce muttered enigmatically, shaking his head with a smile. In one swift move, Bruce swung me down on my feet, swept my hand away from my mouth, and covered my lips with his.

Saying that I was shocked would be a gross understatement. I was baffled maybe, perplexed definitely, stupefied absolutely. But did I care? No.

Just like that Bruce and I were wrapped around each other as only two bodies could be. I felt like I was being swallowed up whole, and we kissed like the world was crumbling down around us. My entire being was tingling and searing and my mind was swirling. Bruce's arms were wrapped around my waist as he held me tightly, and I found my hands wrapped around his neck.

Bruce pulled away set a look on me that nearly made my knees weak. "Your room or mine?"

I barely had enough sense left within me to say 'yours' before Bruce once again swept me up into his arms with a surprised yelp from me, and pretty much sprinted over to his rooms.

He set me down only when both our bodies were within the confines of his bedroom, and immediately set about walking us both backwards. I felt the back of my legs hit something solid before Bruce and I tumbled down onto his bed.

I hadn't realized that Bruce and I had been kissing without tongue until I felt his nudging my lips open. And boy, if I thought kissing him before was spectacular . . . To my horror, I might've made a happy little squeak when I felt his hands roaming my body furiously, my skin tingling everywhere that his hands touched.

Bruce broke away from me momentarily and sat up a bit. I mourned his absence until he unbuttoned his shirt and exposed his chest.

My eyes grew large. He. Was. The embodiment. Of perfection. I took in the way the moonlight shining into the dark room from the lone window hit his chest and emphasized his perfectly toned body, and beautifully sculpted abs. Oh God. I didn't think that bodies like his existed outside of photo-shopped Abercrombie model ads.

Somewhere in my mind I registered his chuckle of amusement in reaction to my obvious appreciation. My eyes snapped up to his impatiently, hopefully conveying the fact that if he didn't ravage me RIGHT NOW, I was prepared to tackle him for it.

Luckily, Bruce returned to my eager form equally as impatient, and continued to kiss me passionately. We were gasping desperately at that point. Both of us wanting this so bad it _hurt._ I was so far gone that in that moment, I doubt I'd be able to recognize up from down no matter how hard I'd tried.

He then left my lips and moved down to my neck, giving me a chance to breathe.

I still couldn't think though, as the little nips and licks on my neck were driving me crazy. My body was overheating and I briefly feared that I might just actually catch on fire if I got any hotter.

I wasn't aware of any sounds that I had been making, but suddenly Bruce stopped his ministrations and growled.

"Katherine. I swear to God. If you keep making those sounds I don't think I'm going to last very long."

I didn't think I could be any more turned on than I already was, but I was very sorely mistaken. He didn't give me a chance to respond, not that I would've been able to given my current state, and greedily went back to tasting every inch of my neck.

My hands flew to his hair as I enjoyed all the things that his glorious mouth was doing to me, but I knew then for a fact that I was still making those noises. Suddenly, Bruce pulled himself back up to my face, and crushed his lips against mine as he grabbed both of my wrists into one of his, and pinned them up above my head.

Everything was moving so fast and his hands just felt so good that I didn't even notice when he'd removed my shirt until he began working on my bra. It was at that moment that I had the fleeting thought about what it would feel like to have the Joker do these things to me.

I gasped as realization hit me like a bucket of freezing water to my body, because suddenly it felt all wrong. Bruce's hands were not right. His lips tasted weird, and I began to feel used—dirty even.

"Stop! Stop!" I gasped desperately. Bruce either didn't hear me, or decided to interpret my words differently.

"Bruce!" I said a bit more urgently. Apparently he felt my body stiffen, because he pulled away slightly to look at me.

"What?" He asked breathlessly. "You want to do it yourself?" It took my mind a second to acknowledge that he was talking about my clothing.

"No. No! I—We—Aren't we moving a bit fast?" I stuttered quickly.

Bruce looked adorably confused and for a moment I felt bad for him. He then blinked and I could tell that he was still in the mood for sex. That's when I actually noticed his certain something urgently prodding my thigh; a certain something that didn't bother me until just now.

I blushed deeply, and rolled out from under him. I stood up from the fluffy comforters of Bruce's bed and began grabbing the loose articles of clothing that seemed to have come off during our heated make-out session.

I was about to turn around to leave before I felt a hand close around my wrist, holding me firmly in place.

I turned to see Bruce who looked entirely baffled and a bit hurt at my sudden rejection. His eyes pleaded with me to stay. "Katherine," He said softly, causing my heart to clench painfully in my chest. "If I—If you think we're moving too fast, then I won't push anything. We can take it slow if you want."

I hesitated.

"I just—" Bruce continued, preventing me from having a chance to respond, "I feel a connection to you and I—I'd like to start a relationship."

He said it almost like a question, and part of me wanted to jump back into his bed and accept his offer, accept him in every way possible, but the other part of me was tied to the Joker, and I knew that I'd never be able to give myself fully to this spectacular man until I sorted out my feelings for the other one.

"I need to sort some things out, Bruce. I—You wouldn't want to be with me in a time like this." I said. Bruce's face fell.

"That's not a . . . rejection though. I just really need some time to think about everything, but I promise you that I'll give you a straight answer soon, okay?"

Bruce's expression flickered just a bit before he grew completely expressionless. He released his grip on my arm and I practically flew out of the room. The moment I shut the door behind me, I heard him groan loudly in frustration.

I had almost been consumed by guilt by the time I returned to my room, and I too, was beginning to feel the frustration kicking in.

Why could I just have gone through with it? God knows I needed it. I'm sure an outlet for all my stress would have been welcome had I allowed it, but no. Now I'm just going to be even more frustrated then I've ever been with all this sexual tension between Bruce and I, and my mind's refusal to let me give in to it.

I walked though the door of my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed face-first the moment that it was within my reach.

Bruce wants to have a relationship with me. BRUCE WAYNE wants to have a relationship with ME and I turned him down. What the fuck was wrong with me? I am quite possibly the biggest douche that has ever existed in the history of mankind.

It didn't help that now I knew. I guess I knew before, but not like this. Roxanne was right—I _was _in love with the Joker. And not only that, but I was beginning to fall for Bruce too.

Suddenly, the weight of my situation fell on me all at once. Anger and frustration towards myself bubbled up within me, and I yelled as loudly as I could into one of my pillows. I yelled for a long time because it felt so good to finally release some of my frustration regardless of how little.

When I was done, I remained in that position until my mind grew weary with exhaustion, and I passed out.

Within the closet of my bedroom, someone was laughing.

* * *

My eyes shot open.

I hoped, no _pleaded_ to God that I was merely tired, and frustrated, and delusional, and what I thought I heard . . .

"_The fuck is this?" _

The voice was muffled slightly but there was no mistaking it. My stomach churned unpleasantly and I wanted to die.

Was this night _ever_ going to end!

I wanted to ignore the situation. I wanted to sleep, and not have to deal with this shit for _at least_ a few _weeks_, but of course, that option couldn't possibly exist within the realm of reality.

The lack of shuffling and curses after the initial outburst unnerved me to no end. I was actually halfway convinced that he was standing behind me, holding some sort of bladed weapon, fully prepared to kill me in that moment.

The fear began to creep in slowly, taking care to settle particularly in my spine and stomach, and I found myself sitting up slowly, practically certain that my life was about to be taken away from me in that instance.

I waited a couple of heartbeats, and when no knife had been inserted between my shoulder blades, I finally gathered up the courage to turn around. My breath came out in a great _WHOOSH _when I found that there was no one behind me. The relief was short-lived though, because I still couldn't shake the unease knowing that the Joker was now conscious, and wrapped up like an unwanted Christmas gift in my closet.

In a surprising amount of courage and adrenaline, I slid off the side of my ocean-bed, straitened up my clothes, and tentatively tiptoed to the entrance. My heart was hammering in my chest furiously, and there was honestly no possibly way I could predict what might be in store for me as soon as I opened the door.

"_Then again,"_ I thought, _"I probably wouldn't suffer as much as I would if I ignored his presence AND THEN had him come after me."_ My reasoning wasn't THAT logical, I knew, but that was the best I could do when trying to motivate myself to be brave and bite the bullet.

I was surprised to notice a moment later that my right hand was actually gripping the doorknob because I couldn't quite remember when I'd put it there.

"_No going back now," _I thought humorlessly. With a deep breath, I turned the knob ever so slowly and pulled it open.

The hinges on the door creaked loudly, causing me to wince. I wouldn't be surprised if I actually managed to wake up Alfred, that's how loud it was. As soon as the opening was large enough, I poked my head into the door slightly, my eyes shut tightly.

I opened them. It was pitch black inside the room, which of course, should not have come as a surprise to me, seeing as how no lights were on anywhere in the room, and it was currently nighttime.

Fuck it. With a surprising burst of speed and energy, I slapped at the wall inside the closet instinctively, whacked the switch on, and looked to the left where I last put the Joker.

What then greeted my eyes was the absolute last sight I expected to see.

There the Joker sat. RIGHT where Roxanne and I left him in, practically in the same pose too. The only indication he gave as to his consciousness was that his eyes were wide _open_, and they were filled with amusement.

What truly surprised me though, was that he was still bound in our incredibly shitty makeshift straightjacket. It was composed of nothing but high-end clothing and random string that we collected in both of our closets and on the floor at the time.

This is the guy that has managed to escape the most intense holding cells and government _prisons_. Albeit, not alone perhaps, but still. If anything, it should be ME who's bound in such a way in the corner of my closet by now. I, for the life of me couldn't even _begin_ to register in my mind why the Joker was still here.

"Sorry to interrupt your uh . . . heated internal argument, _Kitty,"_ The Joker's voice startled me badly. It felt like forever since I last heard his voice, and that was when I noticed I forgot to gag him when we tied him up earlier. I sighed internally at the sheer amount of stupidity that one human being could posses.

"But uh, can you pretty—_please_ tell me why I'm in my uh, cur-rent situation?" The Joker looked eerily calm when he said this, no hint of malice or fury, just that placid, slightly amused expression.

I was most likely going to die a horrible death. And Soon.

It took me a moment to conquer my fear enough to formulate coherent speech, but I finally managed to, and so with a strong voice, I replied, "You tried to kill me."

That got the Joker to raise an eyebrow. "Oh, only tried?" The Joker broke out into a huge grin that didn't quite reach his eyes and tilted his head to the side. "Now, that's kind of funny actually, cause, ya see, I'm not really in the uh, _ha-bit_ of uh, what was that word you used? _Try_ing to kill someone." The Joker licked his lips.

"I'm sure_ you_ of all people know by now, that if I uh, _want_ed you dead, there would be no _trying_ to kill you, right?"

I exhaled exasperatedly. "Well. You certainly sounded like you wanted me dead earlier. Yet here I am." I'm not sure where all this bravado came from in me, but I'd been threatened with my life by this man so many times that cowering in fear just kinda gets a bit bland after a while.

Not that I wasn't afraid, mind you. The Joker looked positively maniacal right now, and I couldn't tell if it was from sheer anger or the large bump Roxanne put on his head.

"Yes," The Joker took his time looking me up and down. "_There_ you are."

I couldn't decipher the look to be good or bad, so I just assumed the worst and begin to sweat under his gaze.

"So uh," The Joker said suddenly. "How long do you plan on keep-ing me?" The Joker simply raised one eyebrow in question; no sneer, no anger, no malice, no amusement, just mild curiosity.

To be totally honest, I actively resisted the knowledge that I'd have to somehow come up with a plan for the Joker. At the time, I only focused on trying to prevent the Joker from easily killing me. I hadn't planned anything and because of this, the Joker's words stirred unpleasant feelings of anxiety.

That's why I couldn't answer the Jokers question. I just stood there like an idiot, hoping that maybe he would read between the lines without me having to show them to him. The Joker huffed slightly and shook his head.

"Why did you try to kill me?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and regardless of the fact that it was a highly inappropriate time to ask this, my curiosity once again overwhelmed me to the point where I could do nothing else but seek information. '

That surprised the Joker. Now both his eyebrows were raised, and he appeared almost . . . Proud?

The Joker looked up with a pondering expression. "You know," He finally said. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that." The Joker nodded to himself as if confirming this statement within his head. "It's funny, because our good ol Gotham civilians just . . . automatically _ass_ume that I just kill because I'm, you know, cra-zy."

The Joker licked his lips and pointed his eyes at me. "But _you. _You are really something else, you know that?"

I couldn't help but notice how he tried to expertly dodge the question. Unfortunately for him, I'd spent much too much time around Roxanne, who is notorious for her creative diversions, and so I caught him immediately.

I wasn't quite aware as to how I should address his lack of response, so I opted for not commenting at all.

After a few moments, the Joker began to fidget in his makeshift straight jacket. I guess that he wasn't always one for pregnant silences.

The Joker huffed angrily and rolled his eyes.

"All—right, Kitty. Let me answer your question with another question," The Joker said.

"Now, picture this. You're sitting around in a beautiful clearing, full of magic and roses and unicorns and all that gay shit, right? Okay, now imagine that some asshole comes stomping into your peaceful meadow, crushing your flowers, killing the cute little animals, just totally fucking up your shit."

The Joker licked his lips and looked directly at me. "_NOW,_ lets imagine that you start to like this asshole, and he promises to help you plant back everything. So you believe the asshole, _trust him_ as one might say, but what does he do when you're about to finish with the last flower? He burns it."

The Joker didn't say anything after that. I blinked.

Okay so . . . apparently I burned his flower? I get that he was trying to tell me that I betrayed him, which confirmed what initially thought, but it didn't actually give me any new information. Well, except to not ever mess with the Joker's flowers, I guess.

We waited again in silence for a few more moments, with me waiting for him to elaborate, and him waiting for me to apologize.

I sighed. "Joker, that was a splendid tale and whatnot, but I'm not going to understand why you—"

"WHAT DON'T YOU GET!" I flinched violently at his sudden outburst. "You two-timed me! Gave me the runaround, the slight hand, the double-edged knife! You _be-trayed_ me. . ." The Joker's breath became heavy.

"I," The Joker paused for emphasis. "Am the one who betrays people. Not the other way around."

As my confusion deepened, so did my frustration. "Just tell me how I could've possibly managed to deceive you!" I yelled.

The Joker clenched his jaw before licking his lips, his face devoid of all emotion.

"_Think_, Kitty." The Joker gritted through his teeth. "What. Did. You. Do. That _day."_

I thought back hard to the events of the party. I came in, met Bruce, spoke with him laughed, had a few drinks . . . I shook my head, '_Not the time,'_ I told myself sternly. After dinner Bruce took me to one of his rooms where I imputed the password before Bruce caught me and chased after me. That's when the Joker and his posse arrived, and before I passed out I . . .

Oh right. I crushed the detonator before I passed out from my concussion. But, that one detonator couldn't have possibly angered the Joker to this degree. . . ?

'_But wasn't the device the final step to allow the Joker to take over Gotham?' _A little voice in my head asked.

True, the initial reason why I tried to destroy it was because I couldn't bear to be directly responsible for the destruction of hundreds of thousands of people's lives, but I was also delirious, so I couldn't _really _have been held accountable for that action.

But what else could it be if not that?

I gazed at him tentatively only to find that his expression had not changed in the slightest, and that he was still expecting to apologize for whatever it was that had upset him so.

I inhaled deeply. "Joker, listen, I wasn't in the right mind when I—"

"Oh JEEZ!" The Joker sighed loudly. "Not THAT excuse!" The Joker mocked me with an overly high falsetto. "Oh Joker _please! _I wasn't in my right mind! I made a mistake, all my loyalties lie with _you!_ Please _for-GIVE_ me!"

The Joker glared at me. "You seemed like you were in a uh, _right _mind to me earlier that day."

I spluttered a bit at being rebuked so heavily.

"A lot of things happened after that!" I defended before quickly realizing a possibly mistake.

The Joker snorted. "Oh yeah. I can guess what kind of _things _happened. . ."

What? I was so horribly confused. Did he know that Bruce gave me a concussion by slamming me against the wall? If so, then why do I feel like he's insinuating something sexual?

"You know what happened?" I asked hesitantly.

The Joker rolled his eyes. "I'm not _blind, _Kitty. I saw how dazed and _dis-tract-ed_ you looked in the dining hall," The Joker licked his lips nastily. "It doesn't take a g_enius_ to figure out what you were up to."

What I was up to? Did he mean the part where I was running for my life, or when I was thrown around like a rag doll outside of the ballroom?

"You know Kit Kat," The Joker continued, his tone less suggestive and more accusatory. "I never actually took you for one of _those _types of girls."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

The Joker rolled his eyes once more. "Must I uh, spell it out for you?" I looked at him blankly.

The Joker huffed. "A floozy! A slut! A woman of the night; whatever you wanna call it!"

My eyebrows lifted sky-high. "What?" What exactly were we talking about here?

"I guess I can't quite blame you though," The Joker continued as if he didn't hear me. "The playboy _is_ from what I hear, uh, qui-te the charmer. But was he really so good in the sac that he could convince you to turn against _ME_ of all people? When you knew it meant almost certain _death?_"

The Joker was looking at me as if he'd been pondering such a thing for a long time and for the life of him, he still couldn't get it.

Shocked wouldn't even graze the surface of how I felt after he said that. He thinks that I slept with Bruce, and because of that, I was suddenly convinced to destroy the device? Good God how did he even come to that conclusion?

I thought back to the events of that day. While it was true that I had spent copious amounts of time with Bruce for the majority of the event . . . actually, now that I think about it, I was with him for the _entirety _of the event, did I seriously give off the vibe of I'm-going-to-have-sex?

Maybe.

"Joker," I finally said. "I didn't sleep with Bruce Wayne."

The Joker laughed. "Right. And I have never killed anybody."

I frowned. "Joker. I'm telling you the truth. I didn't have sex with Bruce, and the reason why I destroyed the detonator was mainly because I had a concussion."

Well that wasn't _completely_ true, but he didn't need to know all the insignificant details.

The Joker threw me a puzzled look. "I didn't actually _give _a shit about the detonator."

My eyes widened. "What?"

The Joker grinned and tsked at me. "Katty, I thought you knew me better than _that_. Do you uh, hon-est-ly think that I would leave such a thing in _your_ hands without having a back-up?"

I tried not to be offended by that remark, but failed miserably.

I threw my hands up in the air at him. "Alright, well I give up. I don't have even the slightest clue as to why you're angry with me. So tell me Joker. WHAT did I do?"

The Joker licked his lips and didn't take his eyes off of me.

"You really don't know do you?"

"No!" I yelled exasperatedly. The Joker paused for a moment, before throwing his head back and laughing long and hard.

It was the first time from the beginning of our conversation that I began to fear the repercussions of all the noise that I know we must be causing. Then, luckily, I remembered how thick all of the walls in the mansion were. It was no wonder that neither Roxanne nor Bruce had come flying through the door by now.

The Joker seemed to have calmed down a bit, and I noticed that his eyes were slightly watery, indicating that his laughter had been genuine.

The Joker suddenly turned his eyes back on me and grinned wryly. "Kitty," He admonished. "I was going to kill you for something that you had no idea you did! Come on, that's got to be a little funny . . ."

Funny to whom exactly?

"Yeah, and I still don't know what it was that brought you to such a point of anger!" I screeched. The Joker winced.

"Calm down _princess_, I'm sitting two feet away, no need to uh, yell."

"Tell me then!"

There was a slight tick in the Joker's jaw, and he didn't respond for a few heartbeats. My pulse literally dropped and my face grew pale because I realized that just now I not only talked back, I yelled at _the Joker_. That guy's been known to shoot a man for merely looking in his direction wrong let alone acting insolent and screeching at him.

The Joker clucked his tongue. "I'm going to uh, _pre-tend_ I didn't hear anything." I nodded, minutely, noticing that I had been holding my breath for his response.

"Let me begin by asking you a question." The Joker thought for a second. "What exactly did your uh, _friend . . ."_

"Roxanne." I supplied.

"Right, _her. _What did she tell you about the events of what happened after you passed out?"

I couldn't help but recoil in shock. The Joker knew that Roxanne was there? What? But how . . . and why wasn't he mad?

The Joker rolled his eyes at me. "Oh _please._ You think that she really could have managed to succeed in blending in with my men?" The Joker snorted. "She looked like a string of asparagus in a sea of turkeys, Kit Kat, give me a _little_ more credit than that."

I involuntarily smiled at the Joker analogy but I now feared for her life.

The Joker chuckled. "My, my, did anyone ever tell you that you're uh, an open book? I can almost read your _mind. _I'm not going to do anything to your precious, uh, _Roxanne._ In fact, I have the utmost respect for her at this moment for her bravery." The Joker looked up at me. "But you didn't answer my question."

I sighed and rehashed the Joker's entire reaction, the initial laughter and nonchalance, the phone call, the look of pure fury on the Joker's face, and the fight that ensued.

After I was finished, the Joker looked at me thoughtfully.

"As you can see from that delightful tale, I didn't really uh, _give _a shit about the detonator now did I? No. I had a plan B you see, but that plan had been foiled because SOMEone had entered the wrong codes into the laptop of the playboy." The Joker glared, most likely rehashing the memory.

"Tell me Kitty, What happened to uh, distract you in such a way back there, hmm?"

For a moment, I was confused. Then, like an anvil falling on my head I understood exactly what had happened.

My eyes widened and I sighed miserably, hiding my eyes behind my left hand. I laughed humorlessly.

Before the Joker could comment on my reaction, I began to explain.

"In order to access Bru—Mr. Wayne's laptop, I managed to get myself to be invited into his private room in Wayne Enterprises." My face grew red as I reached the more embarrassing part of the story.

"Um, and when I got there . . . Mr. Wayne wanted to make himself more comfortable . . . so he decided to grab a shower." I said quietly. The Joker's face grew dark and he began to look murderous.

"But! I wasn't going to—" I cut myself off, thinking it better to continue with the story. "Anyways, when he was in the shower, I saw his laptop, and took that as my opportunity to do it."

"But, well, I was almost done imputing the password, when I heard Bruce come out of the shower, and he kind of, well, caught me. So I panicked and um," The Joker still looked angry, which made me wince as I realized that what I was about to say probably wouldn't make him happy.

"And my fingers must have hit an extra key. . . but I wasn't sure at the time, and I didn't really have time to start over, so I quickly finished the password, and narrowly missed Bruce tackling me to the ground before I ran away."

Silence ensued for the next minute or so as the Joker absorbed my words. His face was no longer dark and murderous, but blank, which to me seemed much more frightening.

"You're telling the truth." It was more a statement than a question, but I nodded anyway.

The Joker's lips twitched a few times before his face broke out into a full-fledged shark-like grin.

"I see." Was all he said.

More silence ensued, and I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I didn't need to be in here anymore.

It was then that my exhaustion finally began to settle on me. I resisted the urge to yawn.

The Joker looked highly amused for some reason, and I immediately took that as my cue to turn around and leave. The Joker didn't say anything until I reached the door.

"One more thing, Kitty Kat." I turned. The Joker was grinning.

"What do I do if I need to use the bathroom? Are you gonna, uh, _supervise me?_"

The Joker wiggled his eyebrows at me and burst out into new peals of laughter. I ran out of the closet and slammed the door behind me, hoping to God that he didn't see the look of pure horror on my face.

"Fuck." I muttered tiredly. One more problem to deal with.

I didn't even make it to the bed.

* * *

A/N:**_ Hey guys, Once again, I apologize for the wait, but I promised I wasn't going to give up on this story, so I didn't and I'm not going to. :) School got in the way, and probably will in the future, so have patience please, and REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS! I'm totally open to guilt-trips to make me write faster. ;)_**

Next time we'll see some Roxanne/Joker and more Kitty/Bruce interactions . . . *wink wink*

-SongsThatSerenade7


	15. Bathroom Break

**_YAY! This chapter made it in time for Christmas! ENJOY!_**

* * *

**CHAPTER 15**

* * *

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I cringed as I felt what was undeniably _another_ crick in my neck. Painfully rolling my head around on my shoulders in what I hoped to be a subtle move, I once again cursed myself for passing out on the floor the night, or should I say morning, before.

Roxanne nearly had a heart attack when she found me laying face-down on the floor just an hour ago judging by the way she frantically flipped me over and shook my shoulders. Since then I'd been finding ache after ache after ache on my body.

I was sitting in Bruce's state-of-the-art kitchen, watching Roxanne flip some omelets for us as my memories of the last twenty-four hours washed over me.

I still hadn't told Roxanne about my conversation with the Joker, having a strong feeling that I'd somehow be mocked relentlessly due to the Joker's reasoning behind his anger. No, I knew for a fact that I'd be teased.

I sighed for what was surely the hundredth time since I awoke. As much as I deeply desired to hide my head in the sand like an ostrich, my conscious knew that it would be entirely unfair for me to keep something like this from the girl who helped me hide what we thought to be a dead body in my closet.

"Roxanne," Her name snuck out before my mind was prepared to actually _speak._

Immediately she whirled around to face me, silver spatula in hand, anticipation clearly identified on her face. _'Looks like she was a bit unnerved by my silence.' _I thought, and I couldn't stop the small smile from showing on my face.

I took a deep breath, aware that the matter wouldn't be dropped now that I completely had her attention.

"Listen, girl, I have to tell you something . . ."

My desolate tone caught her by surprise and she raised both her eyebrows. "What is it?" She asked, more than a little concerned.

"Last night I spoke to—"

"What smells so delicious?"

I nearly fell out of my chair when I heard Bruce's voice enter the kitchen so spontaneously.

"Bruce!" I exclaimed, and Roxanne looked almost as surprised as I felt. In all the four days that we've been here, not once have we seen him enter the kitchen.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at me before grinning. "What?" He asked with a hint of humor in his voice. "Did you not expect to see me in my own home?"

I forced my face into what I hoped to be a genuine smile, but what was most likely a pained grimace. Roxanne caught on immediately to my discomfort.

"No, no, I just uh . . . nothing. Good morning Bruce!" I shrilled much too cheerfully.

Luckily for me, Bruce only smiled. "Good morning Katherine. Roxanne."

"Bruce," Roxanne greeted, nodding her head but still giving me a pointed look.

I ignored her and suddenly became very interested in my nails. Bruce chuckled a bit at my reaction for some strange reason, and then walked up behind Roxanne to see what she was cooking.

"So, what's for breakfast, Mom?" Bruce asked playfully.

Roxanne turned to glare at him over her shoulder. "Watch yourself there, Brucey or I might just forget to save something for you."

Bruce laughed loudly and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll stop, but only because breakfast smells absolutely irresistible."

Roxanne tried to hide her exuberant smile by turning away from him, but failed miserably. Bruce smiled to himself before turning to lock eyes with me. I hadn't realized that I'd been observing their interaction until Bruce gave me a knowing wink and walked away casually.

Events on the night before momentarily flooded my brain, heating up my body with the memory of his oh so smoldering—

"He seems to be in a good mood today," Roxanne says conversationally.

I opt for the oblivious act. "Yeah, you're right, maybe he woke up—"

"Did you sleep with him?"

My head whipped around to face her, more than a little shocked by her blunt question. "Roxanne!" I screeched.

"Oh, calm down, girl. So what if you did? I mean, _I seriously_ wouldn't blame you. Have you _seen_ him in those jeans? I thought my blood would start boiling he's so hot!"

Yes I did see him in 'those jeans' and yes, he IS. So. Hot. I threw my face into my arms in embarrassment.

"Why does everyone think that I slept with Bruce?" I asked aloud.

"Who's everyone? I'm the only one that . . ." Roxanne's voice trailed off, and I began cursing violently in my mind.

Roxanne whipped her whole body around now to face me, her eggs completely forgotten.

"Wait. Don't tell me . . ." I didn't have to, the look on my face confirmed her suspicions, and she dropped her jaw in shock.

"HE'S AWAKE!"

I shushed her violently, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. We waited for any indication that Bruce or anyone else might have heard us, and when two minutes passed in complete silence, I decided to respond.

"_Let's not speak his name,"_ I mouthed to her, somehow incredibly paranoid that we were being over heard.

"_Did you talk to him?"_ She mouthed back, her eyes wide with fear.

I only nodded. It was clearly evident that she was dying to know the details, but for some reason, I just felt so uncomfortable speaking in a place where Bruce or Alfred could literally enter at anytime for any reason.

Roxanne understood. Once we were in a more private place, we'll talk.

* * *

After a nearly burnt breakfast, that Bruce had absolutely _adored_ as Roxanne reminded me for the fourth time, we managed to escape to her room to talk.

I put one foot through the door before Roxanne decided that I was moving too slowly and shoved me inside slamming the door behind us. My eyes widened at her enthusiasm and she looked at me expectantly.

"Well?" She demanded.

I'm sure my face reflected my displeasure, but she of course, didn't care even the slightest bit, and merely waited not-so-patiently for me to begin. I didn't know whether or not to tell her about the Bruce thing AND the Joker thing, or just the Joker thing, so I stayed silent for a moment too long.

Roxanne huffed loudly. "I already got that something happened with Bruce." She deadpanned. My eyebrows rose sky-high with shock. Roxanne snorted.

"What? Did you guys think you were being slick? Perhaps if I hadn't noticed him practically devouring your very being with his eyes, you might've gotten away with it, but I did, and so you didn't." I opened my mouth to say something, anything to correct her thoughts, but to my displeasure, she kept on talking.

"And you were just as bad," She laughed mirthfully. "What with your nervous glances at him and the way your eyes would glaze over as he ate his food. But really, you'd think that after last night, you've would've had enough of—"

"ROXANNE!" I yelled loudly, shocking her into silence. "I'm _telling _you I. Did not. Have sex. With Bruce."

Roxanne grinned at me, clearly not believing me. I sighed.

"We . . . we made out, but—"

"OH MY GOD!" Roxanne shrieked. She threw herself onto her bed and beckoned me over. "Tell me _everything_ and I swear to God if you leave out _any_ details, I'll kill you."

Speaking of killing, I suddenly remembered the psychopathic killer clown currently tied up in my closet.

"Listen girl, I'll tell you about Bruce another time-" Roxanne looked crestfallen. "-because we kinda have um, _bigger_ issues." I gave her a significant look.

Roxanne's entire demeanor shifted.

"Fuck! Is he still in there?" She stage-whispered.

"Yes!" I whispered back with equal intensity. "That's the problem! What the fuck am I supposed to do with him?"

"You're asking me?" Roxanne pointed to herself incredulously. "Aren't I the one that knocked him out in the first place? Besides, you know him a million times more than I do, so why would you ask me for advice on this?"

I groaned loudly and put my face into my hands. She was right of course, I did know him better than the majority of people on this earth, and I knew it was wrong to ask her to help me with him any more than she already has. This is was my problem and I have to deal with it myself.

I was just about to tell her that when she spoke.

"Uh oh." Roxanne muttered. I looked up.

"What?"

Roxanne sighed heavily, her body moving with her. "You've got that look. . ."

I frowned. "What look?" Roxanne made a vague gesture to my face.

"You know, the look where you're preparing to say something stupid like "It's okay Roxanne, I know he's a sadistic killer and everything, but I can handle this myself, don't you worry. I won't ask you for your help.'"

I looked away. That was more or less exactly what I was going to say.

"Girl," Roxanne said, sounding exasperated with me. "Don't you think, that if I was, oh, you know, somehow _involved in this fiasco as well,_ that I'd want to help you as much as I possibly could?"

"Roxanne—"

"No! You must be insane to think for even one second that I'm going to leave you alone in this when clearly you need my help!"

"Roxanne—"

"Katherine!" Roxanne gave me a hard stare filled with so much emotion that my words froze in my throat. "Do you know how I felt when I thought you were dead?" She asked quietly. Her voice held so much weight, and she sounded as if she was speaking through a ball of molasses in her throat. She shook her head violently, obviously trying to relieve herself of those painful emotions, and then looked at me, her eyes glistening.

"Never again, you hear me?" Her voice was hard. "I don't care _what _happens. You are my best friend, Katherine Harleen Quinzel, and if keeping you safe means facing a mentally unstable psycho murderer with a wicked sense of humor, then so be it!"

We sat in silence as the weight of her words settled in the air. Honestly, where would I be without this woman?

I made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob as a genuine smile spread across my face.

"Well, I believe we have one mentally unstable psycho murderer to return to now don't we?"

Roxanne grinned.

* * *

Though we arrived at my room two minutes later, we stood outside for a good twenty minutes or so before either one of us gathered up the nerve to turn the knob.

"Someone's gonna have to open the door, you know." Roxanne stated dully. I sighed quietly, already predicting that this 'somebody' was most likely going to be me.

I motioned for her to stand behind me on the left side of the door, away from the direction that the door opens in an attempt to eliminate the possibility of the Joker throwing knives or some other lethal weapon in our faces as we step through.

Not that he'd be even slightly deterred from killing us if that's what he wanted.

I placed my hand gingerly on the handle, moving carefully like someone would with a particularly dangerous situation; which I guess is reasonable seeing as how we're dealing with a murderer here.

Roxanne grew impatient. She was just as terrified, if not more so than I, yet she'd never really been one to drag out unpleasant situations like I tend to. So without further hesitation, she placed her hand over mine on the doorknob, and callously swung the door wide open.

My mouth dropped open in a silent scream as I awaited a bomb to be triggered or some sort of violent catastrophe to occur.

A minute passed.

Then two minutes.

A little bit after the third minute, my body began to react normally again, and with some hint of amusement, I noticed how both Roxanne and I had been frozen in various positions of defense. Roxanne had shielded her head and moved to the other side of the door, facing the wall, and I had merely been standing with my mouth open in horror, unmoving and terrified.

As soon as I calmed down, Roxanne did too, and with a mutually shared look, we simultaneously entered my room.

It was dark inside, but not nearly as much as it had been during the night, so we were able to reach the closet entrance with minimal difficulty.

I felt an almost overpowering rush of déjà vu, and in place of feeling scared and anxious, I felt annoyed—something that only usually happens in extreme situations where I know any other emotion would only handicap me. But more than that, I was just so sick of being terrified when dealing with this guy.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. "Let's just get this shit over with."

My hand hesitated for one more second over the knob before gripping it tightly. As I shifted my weight in my hand, hoping to God there would be no more embarrassing creaking noises coming from the door, I heard a reluctant huff behind me, before a second hand joined mine and pulled the door open at a _much_ quicker pace.

Pure shock was the only thing that kept me from screaming, and it was too late anyways. The door was open, and our fates sealed. Neither of us moved a muscle, waiting for some sound, or movement, or likely an explosion.

Finally, we heard a loud, obnoxious yawn.

"Jeez, what time is it?" The Joker groaned, clearly uncomfortable with the position he'd been in. Roxanne and I still hadn't dared look into the closet, and we ended up not answering the Joker's question.

There was a pause.

"Um, _Kitty . . ._ I do believe that I spoke just now." The Joker said, his voice holding a bit of amusement in it.

Roxanne was the first one to come out of it. "Oh, it's uh, 10:55. In the morning." She added as an after thought.

The Joker merely hummed in response.

That noise shocked my out of my trance. God, I really needed to be smoother about that.

"We thought you might've needed something, so we came to check on you." I finally said, feeling my pride swell when I noticed how my voice didn't shake.

The Joker made some odd chortling sound halfway between a snort and chuckle.

"Now, forgive me if I'm mistaken" He coughed between his laughter. "But I don't think you're supposed to 'check up on' your hostages, and see if they, uh '_need_ anything.'"

His voice broke from a fresh round of laughter, and Roxanne and I shared an exasperated look. I opened the door fully so that we wouldn't continue to look ridiculous.

The Joker sobered up after a few more seconds, taking a second to size up Roxanne with a raised eyebrow.

"So," He began. "I ass-ume you're the idiot who snuck in with my goons, huh?"

I watched Roxanne face go grey. Her lips were held tightly together and I knew that beads of sweat were going to build on her face any second now.

The Joker grinned. "You've got balls, uh. . ."

"Roxanne." She supplied hesitantly after a slight, uncertain pause.

The Joker gave her a shark-like smile. "Right, right, Roxanne. Yes, well, I must say, in order to pull something as reckless and uh, _dangerous _as that, you'd have to be in possession of some rather large balls, Miss Roxanne. Bigger than most of my brainless lackeys, so uh, I think that earns a bit of my res-pect."

Roxanne's eyes grew comically wide. She floundered a bit before recovering her composure and intelligently opted to not respond.

"So, uh . . ." The Joker continued, licking his lips suggestively at the two of us. "Say, Roxanne, do you have the hots for my Kitty or something? 'Cause I can't really see a 'friend' risking their life like that for someone who they aren't fucking."

THAT got Roxanne and I to grin. It definitely wasn't the first time someone's asked us that, or _suggested_ it in some shape or form, and usually we'd play along with it, confusing people to no end, but something told me that the Joker'd be able to see right through our façade.

"Something like that." Roxanne said with a knowing smile my way.

I decided to break up the banter between the two before we went too off topic. "Whelp! Now that all the pleasantries are out of the way . . ."

"Ah, yes!" The Joker exclaimed, his amusement returning full-force. "My uh, _needs._"

The Joker tilted his head up mock-thought.

"We-ell, I guess we could begin with the fact that I'm, oh, you know, _restrained_." The Joker looked up at me. "I mean, just in case you haven't already noticed." Roxanne and I shifted a bit. "But you two don't seem likely to, uh, _do_ anything about that . . . so moving on."

The Joker paused for another few moments.

"Oh yeah," he finally responded. "I need to take a piss."

I wrinkled my nose a bit at his blatant crudeness, feeling slightly embarrassed at the implications of that statement.

Roxanne looked horrified as I assume she'd just begun to understand it as well.

"Yeah. Uh, ladies?" The Joker asked, with a mischievous smile plastered over his face. "When I say I need to take a piss, I mean I _real-ly_ need to go. As in NOW. Like, if no one does anything within the next, uh, _five minutes_, there's going to be a beautiful mess to clean up and WHOO! Do I feel bad for the sucker that's gonna have to—"

"NOT IT!"

My head whipped around to face Roxanne, my eyes no doubt betraying my bewilderment. Roxanne stared back at me seriously, her eyebrows raised and her expression firm.

"Not it, girl. You can deal with the bathroom duties. I," She pointed to herself. "Am going nowhere _near _that territory."

"And you think I wanna be there to supervise him as he uses the bathroom!" I exclaimed, horribly embarrassed by the mere thought of having to watch the Joker in such a private moment. "That is IF he can even use it!"

"Yoo-hoo! Ladies?" The Joker called from where he sat in the closet. "Hey, not that this isn't entertaining or anything, but uh, those five minutes we talked about? Remember them? Yeah, more like four and a half now."

Roxanne and I shared a long look before coming to a silent agreement.

"Alright." Roxanne consented. "I'll help you pull him in."

We each ran into the room and grabbed one end of his body. Roxanne got the feet, and I was in control of his Upper-half. The Joker made it immensely difficult by laughing uproariously and wiggling a lot.

His movement forced me to almost have to hug him to me in order to keep him steady.

The Joker looked up at me through impossibly dark eyes. "You know Kitty, when I imagined my head pressing up against your chest, I uh, really hoped we'd be doing much . . . naughtier things . . ." The Joker tried wriggling his eyebrows at me from the position he was in.

My immediate reaction was to pull his head as far away from my person as possible, but unfortunately, I could see that that would put far too much strain on Roxanne to carry him so I refrained from doing so.

She wasn't looking at me, though, and no doubt she'd heard what the Joker said, so I could only imagine what must be going through that mind of hers, but I tried my best not to dwell on it for the moment.

I was never more thankful for there to be a bathroom inside my room. With our combined effort, Roxanne and I managed to open the door (Well, Roxanne did, seeing as how she found some strange way to balance the Joker's legs on her hip to free an arm) with minimal strain.

We must've looked unbelievably ridiculous; two girls dressed in matching tank tops and short shorts carrying The Joker into a bathroom.

Finally, we managed to get the Joker's body into the bathroom. Roxanne didn't put him down until we were directly in front of the toilet at the way back of the gargantuan room, and his feet were on the tile for what was most likely two seconds before she bolted out of the room, throwing a "I'll watch the door" over her shoulder before leaving me alone with him.

I sighed. Traitor.

I immediately felt like an asshole for thinking that about Roxanne. I knew in my heart that it was unfair to hold this over her head; especially since she's done nothing push past her comfort zone for weeks in order to protect me from the Joker.

I couldn't help but feel a little confused though. This girl would voluntarily help me hide Gotham's most wanted in the house of one of the most influential men in the country, risking her life just for me, yet she wouldn't do this. Something about that seemed a bit off to me, but then again, I have been wrong before concerning Roxanne. Not often, but it's happened.

"So, I uh, couldn't help but notice that, my hands are kinda tied up," The Joker suddenly said, interrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to the situation at hand.

"Just curious . . . how do you expect me to, you know, GO, when I can't even unzip my pants?"

The Joker's voice was thick with implications and it took me half a second before I fully comprehended what it was that I was going to have to do to make this work.

To say that I was mortified would be a gross understatement.

I was going to have to—Because he couldn't—And then I'd be—Oh God. No wonder Roxanne left like that.

I stood frozen next to the Joker on his left. His feet were bound together, so I had to be prepared to catch him if he lost balance or something (not likely). Even so, I could not, for the life of me, look him in the face. I felt like my entire body was burning, and as much as I wanted nothing more that to find a quiet place to stick my head in the sand like an Ostrich—completely abandoning this situation, I couldn't.

The Joker began to cackle madly. "I see you finally got it Kit Kat. Your friend was smart and understood right away. I expected you to let me piss on the carpet in the closet when you found out, but I think that this works out much more nicely, dontcha think?"

My first reaction to the Joker's words was, if even possible, FURTHER embarrassment. But then I looked at him, and though I don't know exactly what it was, _something _in the air had changed.

It was like the Joker was challenging me. It was like the Joker expected me to just cower away and run off embarrassed like some silly little schoolgirl virgin.

A spark of anger flared through me at the blatant insult; an emotion I haven't felt this strongly since before I was kidnapped. That was when I decided that I was going to go through with this, regardless of how much I'll want to kill myself afterwards. I am honestly fed up with acting predictably with this evil clown.

I smiled sweetly at the Joker. His eyebrow lifted a centimeter but his smile remained firmly in place, indicating that I didn't react quite how he wanted me to, but he still believed me to run away or act awkwardly.

"Alright!" I said brightly, grinning right back at him. "Are you ready? Because I'm gonna uh, need you to keep your balance for this."

The Joker blinked a few times and his grin faltered a bit. "I'm sorry, wanna uh, run that by me again?"

"You heard me." I responded. "Prepare yourself."

The Joker scrutinized me for a few moments, before he gave me an appraising smile.

"Well, I gotta say Katty, you sure seem quite . . . _ea-ger_ now, dontcha?" The Joker said, his voice was deep and husky, and he began licking his lips. "If you really wanted to see it so badly, all you uh, had to do was . . . _ask_."

I couldn't control the tiny thrill that went up my spine when he said that. His words greatly appealed to my Haven't-gotten-laid-in-God-knows-how-long side. Now was really not the time for me to delve deeper into my desire for the Joker, but considering what I'd have to be doing soon, there was absolutely no way to avoid such train of thought.

"Trust me," I responded. "If I 'really wanted to see it so badly', I would have succeeded by now." I gave the Joker (what I thought to be) a flirtatious smile.

That seemed to really surprise him. I'm sure he fully expected me to just laugh it off, or stutter or something, but I was determined to remain composed in front of this man.

The Joker recovered quickly though, and began to laugh genuinely. A large part of me felt inexplicably proud of myself for retuning the Joker's teasing.

'_I would find a way to bond with the Joker during a situation like this.'_ I mused to myself.

The Joker's laughter died out, and all that was left was a full-fledged grin flashed directly at me as he subtly thrust out his hips invitationally. My eyes unconsciously followed his movement, and I found myself unabashedly staring at his crotch.

"It's allllllllll yours." He said. I recoiled a bit when I realized that I was still staring, and when I looked up at the Joker's face, he only winked at me and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Stay calm; don't blush. Stay calm; don't blush. I repeated it in my head like a mantra. It was only now that I realized Roxanne and I left the Joker's . . . um, crotch unwrapped. We bound his legs together, tied his hands behind his back, and wrapped his torso up with clothes tied to one another, but somehow we missed that one spot.

I suppose it came in handy for this type of situation, but it eliminates any and all stalling that I might've had while doing this. I picked up my hand and moved it towards his crotch.

I could see that his trademark dark purple pants were buttoned as well as zipped up in one of those elaborate clasps, meaning that I would be forced to use both hands to unbutton him. AND he was wearing a belt.

With reluctance, I leaned down before him, and brought both hands poised over him. I took a deep breath, and placed my hands over the clasp of the belt on his dark purple pants. My hands fumbled a bit before unclasping it, and when I finally managed to pull it open, I released the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Ah, this really brings me back." The Joker sighed wistfully, reminding me once again whom I was doing this for. "It's like High School all over again."

I was almost positive that the Joker was just trying to give me a hard time with this, and so I forced every muscle in my face to remain still as I unbuttoned him and zipped down the zipper.

That was when I almost lost it.

It shouldn't have surprised me a bit that the Joker went commando. I was just . . . not prepared to see skin as soon as I opened up his pants. Which was a bit ridiculous, I will admit. I didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that the Joker's legs were tied in a way that made it impossible for his pants to be pulled down.

A wild part of me wanted to pull it out and take the time to get a reeeeeeally good look at the Joker's . . . um . . . _delicates,_ but I knew that there was something undeniably pathetic in having to ogle a man in the bathroom while he was bound and defenseless, and so I restrained myself.

Just barely.

'_Besides,' _A little voice in my head said, '_I'm sure if you REALLY wanted to check him out, you'll have other opportunities during more favorable circumstances . . .' _

I cleared my throat, just now noticing that the Joker wore a shit-eating all over his face. He was looking like he just got off on my reaction to his lack of underwear.

"Enjoying those naughty thoughts there, Kitty?" The Joker asked, obviously teasing me.

"Fuck you." I responded automatically, and immediately regretted it. The Joker's smile only grew. Damn!

"Ooh! So you were thinking about me? How very . . ." The Joker paused to lick his lips. "_In-ter-est-ing . . ."_

The Joker was really trying to get under my skin now, and I kind of hated myself for feeling a little warm when he spoke to me like that.

Suddenly I felt strong impulse to just shove my hand in his pants, pull it out, and get it over with. Only this time, I didn't resist the urge.

In one swift motion, I grabbed the waistband of his purple trousers with one hand, reached inside and grabbed him with the other, pulled his length out of his trousers and released him all without looking down once. It was so swift in fact, that the Joker made some odd noise of surprise and stared at me with something resembling respect in his eyes.

I didn't meet them. Instead I watched the floor intently, making an effort to not think about what I just touched.

"Alright." I said significantly, gesturing to the toilet in front of him.

There was a pause.

"You know," He finally answered. "You're lucky I'm bigger than a uh, _normal_-sized_ guy, _or you'd have to get MUCH more _fa-mi-liar_ with me so I could take a piss."

I desperately, DESPERATELY wanted to look over and see for myself what it was exactly that the Joker meant by that.

Dontlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook.

Suddenly, I heard the telltale signs of someone using the bathroom and I was almost shaking with the need to either leave the room or implode.

I jumped almost three feet in the air when there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Katherine? Are you in there? May I speak with you?"

My blood ran cold as pure dread seeped into my veins, numbing my entire body.

It was Bruce's voice, and I was in here, with the Joker, who was using the bathroom, with no place to hide, and nowhere to go.

In other words, I was screwed.

* * *

**_A/N:_** **_Hey Guys, Hopefully now that I'm on break I'll have much more time to push out the next chapter soon, but of course, given my update track record I can't make any promises (^_^)' Heh. _**

**_Anywhoo! BRUCE APPEARANCE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, and the plot between the Joker, Kitty, and Roxanne DEEPENS! _**

**_-HAPPY HOLIDAYS! SongsThatSerenade_**


	16. Double Dealing

**_Finals Sucked, and here is your awaited chapter. :)_**

* * *

Chapter 16

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**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Kath—Miss Quinzel," Bruce tried again after receiving no response from me. He most likely thought that using formalities would make me respond, but he couldn't have unsettled me more if he tried.

'_How do I get out of this?' _I thought frantically, my eyes wild as if looked between the Joker (who was finishing up) and the imminent doom that awaited me on the other side of the door.

The Joker grinned at me over his shoulder. "Ha, well, _this_ is quite the twist. Dontcha agree, Kitty?"

He sounded like he was laughing at me. I couldn't really blame him though, on a good day, I might have laughed at myself if it wasn't actually me trapped in a bathroom with an exposed Joker while Bruce Wayne stood on the other side of the door, waiting for me to go out.

"Oh, and just so you know," The Joker continued casually. "I'm uh, finished here, so if it's not too much trouble . . ."

He didn't have to finish the sentence, the meaning was clear. Put him back in.

This time, there was much too much going on in my mind, which prevented me from dwelling on the action; I didn't even hesitate. I simply pivoted on my heel, pulled his pants out, grabbed him, and shoved him back in haphazardly.

I did the entire action without looking and within the span of about ten seconds.

The Joker looked like he was stifling a laugh. "You know Kit, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you've got quite a uh, talent for this kinda thing." The Joker licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Perhaps you have a lot of previous ex-perience with this kinda thing, hmm?"

I fought the urge to glare at him. Right now there were a plethora of problems that were much more pressing than a few harmless taunts from the Joker.

I had to respond in some way to Bruce, because I knew that it was a matter of time before he grew suspicious.

I took a deep breath.

"Bruce!" A voice shrilled from somewhere inside my room on the other side of the door. I was immensely relieved to recognize it as Roxanne's.

"Hey there! Uh, listen now is not really the time to bother Katherine . . ." Her voice lowered to an audible whisper "She was feeling kinda sick earlier, so she might be in there for a _while . . . "_ Her voice trailed off suggestively.

'_ROXANNE!' _I screamed indignantly in my mind.

From behind me, the Joker snickered before releasing a very loud, pained groan/grunting sound. I flipped around to face him, my eyes impossibly wide, as I feared that our cover had been blown spectacularly.

"See?" Roxanne asked, in response to the noise. "I think Katherine's gonna need some more privacy for a little while."

"Oh," Bruce said, sounding a bit concerned. "Maybe I should see if she is—"

"Don't you worry about that, Bruce. I'll take care of her," Roxanne interrupted smoothly. "Besides," She added. "I know for a fact that she'd be mortified if you began helping while she's . . . otherwise indisposed."

Behind me the Joker took that as an opportunity to groan in pain again, even _louder_ this time.

"Of course." Bruce replied reasonably. "Well, when you get the chance, tell her that I need to talk to her about last night as soon as she feels better."

"Will do."

I listened to Bruce's retreating footsteps until they disappeared outside the door of the bedroom. The almost silent 'click' of the door behind his is the sound that REALLY sunk me into my quickly spiraling depression.

Roxanne swung the door of the bathroom open, smiling at me triumphantly, as if she hadn't just ruined any last chance I had of facing Bruce without dying of embarrassment.

"Hey girl!" She greeted me enthusiastically. "I got rid of Bruce for you!" She looked back over her shoulder, checking to make sure her words were correct. "Alright," She continued, whispering conspiratorially. "Let's take the Joker back now. You're all done right."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that we're done _exactly. . _," The Joker piped up from where he still stood in front of the toilet, purple and green clothes all disheveled and a nasty smirk on his face. His voice was full of suggestion.

I chuckled humorlessly. "No," I sighed. "We're done."

My tone of voice immediately raised Roxanne's warnings. I'm not sure what the look on my face was, but she looked at me like I was a wild animal and the next move she made would be her last.

"Katherine? What is it?" She asked me silently.

I chuckled again. "Nothing, babe. Let's get the Joker back." I knew that she had only been trying to help me when she embarrassed me to death, so I'd be the one in the wrong to hold it against her.

I suddenly felt exhausted.

Roxanne frowned at me incredulously. "I'm not mentally handicapped," She stated bluntly. "I have eyes, and I can see that _something _is wrong. I'm just asking you what it is exactly."

"Nothing, Roxanne. Really." Roxanne opened her mouth to reply, but I cut her off. "Girl, don't you think that now's kind of a bad time to have this discussion?" I looked behind me significantly.

The Joker appeared to be enjoying our little dialogue. Suddenly, Roxanne glared furiously at the Joker.

"Did you have something to do with this?" She asked quietly, her voice sounding menacing even for someone so kind-hearted and harmless as her.

The Joker raised his eyebrows in surprise before smirking nastily. "Now that has to be a first. I can't remember the last time someone got away with talking to me like that. Especially a uh, little black girl who doesn't know _what the fuck_ she is talk-ing about."

Roxanne's eyes flashed angrily. If there's one thing she hates more than anything else, it's being treated as if she were slower than the rest of us.

"But!" The Joker continued. "I think your answer lies within the little lie you just told good ol Brucey there about your supposed best friend."

Roxanne's eyes were blank for half a second, clearly trying to think of what she might've said to Bruce that would have—

"Oh no!" She wailed, looking at me with piteous eyes. "Girl I didn't mean to embarrass you! I thought you approved of my excuse because you played along and made those noises!"

The Joker snorted loudly behind me before breaking out into laughter.

Roxanne understood immediately that it wasn't me, but the Joker that made those bathroom noises, and the look on her face made me feel like shit. She was clearly just trying to help me and I had absolutely no right to make her feel this way.

"It's fine, girl." I finally said, mostly meaning it. "It's not like I planned to speak with Bruce after yesterday anyways."

Roxanne looked taken aback, and then confused for a moment.

"You're not going to talk to him?" She said this as if she couldn't believe the words herself. "Why?"

I sighed, knowing from past experience that there was little to no chance of me changing the subject when she was like this. I guess the Joker's just going to have to be involved in my personal affairs. Again.

"Well, coupled with the fact that I'm now mortified beyond imagination to so much as look him in the eye . . ." I paused for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts a bit before I continued.

I looked back at the Joker, and to my surprise he had a semi-serious look on his face, as if he too wanted to hear what I had to say.

"I don't think anything good can come from my . . ." I looked back at the Joker again. " . . . Current situation."

The 'Current Situation' was quiet, but somehow appeared . . . pleased with himself?

Roxanne said nothing for a few moments, sizing up my predicament as she has a tendency to do.

"Katherine," She said finally. "I really don't think that you're going to be able to avoid Bruce today."

Here we go. "Roxanne—"

"No, really! Hear me out for this one." I reluctantly complied, expecting the worst. "You didn't see his face when he was outside the bathroom door. In the five days we've been here, I haven't seen him look so determined, and while that might not signify anything to you," Roxanne voice got louder when she saw that I was trying to interrupt. I stayed silent.

"And while that might not signify anything to you," She repeated slowly. "To _me,_ that look says that even if you don't go to see Bruce in a few minutes like he hopes you will, he's going to come looking for you."

She gave me a significant look.

I didn't have to think to hard to know what the look on her face meant. I heard her loud and clear. _ 'If he comes looking for me, my room will be the first place he's going to look,' _

"And so, I'm assuming you're going to recommend that I see Bruce in order to prevent exposure to our criminal affairs."

Roxanne smiled.

Of course she's right, but I'm not about to TELL her that.

"Don't you wanna know what _I _think, Kitty?" The Joker asked in an almost childish way.

"Not particularly, no."

"Oh!" The Joker clutched his chest. "Kit Kat, you wound me!" The Joker smiled wolfishly. "_I, _uh, _personally_ believe that Brucey needs to get the hint, if ya know whatta mean. I don't think you should talk to him at all."

Roxanne cut her eyes to the Joker with a peculiar look on her face before looking back at me.

I must've missed whatever just happened. Again.

"Okay, not that everyone's had their say, what's say we return the Joker back to the closet, hmm?" I said sarcastically.

With that, Roxanne moved completely into the room, and joined me in front of the Joker. Simultaneously, we both went to pick up an end of the Joker's body (I held his head again), and slowly moved him back into the closet with minimal difficulty.

After we set him down back in his little corner, Roxanne and I went to stand outside the door.

"So, have you decided to see Bruce or not?" She asked me.

I sighed for what was probably the fifth time this morning. I chuckled weakly. "What other choice do I have?"

"Come on, girl. It won't be that bad, just don't expect it to be awkward and it won't be."

I scoffed at that.

"Hey!" The Joker called from inside the closet. "Doesn't someone need to watch over me or something? If you go talk to your uh, precious lil' Brucey boy, won't I try to escape?"

For some reason it felt like the Joker was really trying to keep me from leaving. Roxanne got that same look in her eye.

"Don't worry about him," She said, rolling her eyes. "I'll watch him."

The Joker began to laugh.

"Roxanne—" I began, I wasn't quite sure how she'd manage with him, but I couldn't see it turning out that great.

"You wanna go to jail? Besides, I have some things I need to discuss with this guy, anyways. So leave."

I sighed, not exactly trusting the situation, but we had no other options, so I merely smiled at her gratefully. She merely shooed me out the door in response and rolled her eyes towards the Joker in the closet.

Without further adieu, I checked myself to make sure I looked decent, and walked out of the room to face the person who was likely to become one of our biggest problems. Bruce.

* * *

Roxanne watched silently as the door to her best friend's room slowly clicked shut. She wasn't quite sure whether or not her decision had been the best, or the smartest, or the most rational, but it was necessarily, and so she had to do it.

Gathering her wits about her, she turned back around to face the open closet door, noting that this was the first time she'd ever been in the Joker's company without the reassurance of her best friend being with her. And no matter how many times Roxanne looks at the Joker, she will never get used to the shock.

He sat there, in that closet, looking marginally less menacing as he was wrapped up tightly in a bootleg straightjacket composed of high-end clothing from the shoulders to his hips. His hands were tied behind his back, and his legs tied together, but he still wore the notorious purple and green ensemble, so to Roxanne, he would remain a threat in her eyes as she associated that suit with mass murder among other unpleasant things.

"_Not to mention his face,"_ Roxanne thought. She had tried her very hardest not to cringe whenever she saw the messy lipstick stains over those horrible scars. Everything drew attention to that face, from the dirty, greasy green hair, to the cracked white make-up to those black-rimmed eyes. He looked like a horror movie come to life. Roxanne hates horror movies.

That still wouldn't stop her from her task, however.

She stepped inside the closet and flipped on the light switch, illuminating the room in a bright yellow light. The Joker looked up at her, appearing slightly amused and infinitely curious.

"And uh, pray tell, WHAT brings _you _to my humble abode?" The Joker asked sarcastically.

Roxanne took a deep breath.

"I have some questions for you." She replied simply, trying not to appear confrontational, but no doubt sounding just that.

The Joker arched an eyebrow and smiled. "OH? Do you now? Well that's a surprise. Tell me, what makes you think I'm gonna uh, _an-swer_, ANY of them, hmm?"

"Because the questions I have involve Katherine, and depending on how you answer them I might actually try to help you."

There. She said it. She couldn't believe that she was doing this, but there's no turning back from here.

That wiped the smile clear off of the Joker's face. He now regarded Roxanne seriously and cocked his head to the side slightly. "Well?"

Roxanne took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Why are you still here?" She asked him, opening her eyes again.

The Joker grinned. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, please." She replied, not looking even fractionally amused. "I don't think you even know how many newspaper headlines I've read about how 'The Joker escaped from high maximum security at blah, blah, blah, or The highest security systems in the WORLD didn't stop THE JOKER from escaping blah, blah, blah.'" Roxanne stared him down. "You could've gotten out of this thing in five minutes yet you're STILL here and I wanna know _why_."

The Joker licked his lips and squinted at Roxanne.

"You're sharper than you look, I'll give you that, Doll." Was all he said.

"Okay, fine." Roxanne conceded. "Let's try this again. I KNOW FOR A FACT that you're here because of Katherine, I just wanna know WHY."

"What does it matter to you what I do with my Kitty?" The Joker challenged.

Roxanne became furious. She clenched her jaw. "What does it MATTER to me?" She said incredulously. "Well perhaps you haven't noticed, but I LOVE her! She means absolutely EVERYTHING to me and I would like to know whether or not the demented CLOWN I'm helping her protect is planning on stabbing her while she sleeps!"

The Joker laughed heartily and didn't stop for at least a minute. By the Roxanne was somehow thoroughly embarrassed about her explosion of anger and began glaring at the floor.

"Ah, I knew you had the hots for my Kitty."

Roxanne just looked at him. "I am not a Lesbian."

The Joker just kept on laughing. Roxanne huffed exasperatedly.

"Anyways, I'm sorry for that accusation back there. I'm sure you would've have killed during one of the 17 opportunities you've no doubt had if you really wanted her dead—"

"Wait, wait. Are you . . . apologizing to me?" The Joker asked as if this were the most confusing concept he's ever had to grasp.

Roxanne looked thrown. "Wah? Well, yeah, I kind of blew up at you when I knew that you wouldn't kill her so—"

"How do you know I wasn't going to uh, 'stab her while she sleeps' as you so graciously put it?"

'_Oh God, here it comes'_ Roxanne thought. "Because I see the way you look at her."

The Joker didn't respond and so Roxanne took that as encouragement to continue.

"The first time I saw it, you looked to me like you either wanted to rip her clothes off or kiss her. The other times, well, your face looked a bit softer . . . and then you looked like you wanted to rip her clothes off or kiss her."

The Joker looked on the verge of laughter, but Roxanne pushed thinking that she might as well get it all out there when she was on a roll like this.

"Do you like her?" She asked him. That's when he lost it. The Joker laughed so hard that he literally keeled over from the force of his chuckles. Roxanne couldn't help but think though, that something about his actions seemed a bit forced.

She waited patiently for him to clam down from his laughter, but whenever he looked up and saw her face, a fresh round of giggles would then commence.

"'Your—Your face looked softer' . . . 'do you have a crush on her'?" The Joker mimicked breathlessly.

Finally, after he sobered up another minute later, he looked Roxanne right in the eyes.

"Let me just remind you, in case uh, you might have for-got-ten; I'm a mass murderer. I've killed men, women, children, transvestites, and perhaps a few hermaphrodites without feeling even the smallest twinge of regret. I play mind games with my victims, stripping away the last bit of insanity that they uh, might have kept after living in this God-Forsaken city. I've slaughtered more bodies than you can ev-en _begin _to guess. That's why you stand before me . . . trembling with fear, while your voice shakes. Its because you _know_." The Joker leaned towards her.

"I do not 'like' people. I obsess over them. I consume them. I annihilate them. I will never 'like' your Kitty. Liking people are for the weak. And I haven't killed Kitty because I want to have some uh, _fun_ with her before I do."

The Joker's mysterious glint in his eyes when he said the word "fun" sent a bucket of cold water down Roxanne's spine, shocking her to the core. This was the Joker that everyone sees.

One word. Bullshit.

The Joker might have been able to fool anyone else who was less in tune to the romantic interests of others, but never Roxanne. The girl had probably read and studied and analyzed all the possible ways to find clues about another person's interest in someone. She caught the slight shift in the Joker's tone when he used that pet name; she recognized the thickening of his voice when he said that he does not 'like' her. She knew that he was bluffing, if not to only get her off his back.

It worked. Roxanne no longer wanted anything to do with the creep. She decided to merely let the chips fall where they may with the relationship between Katherine and the Joker.

She gave him one last look of a sort of mix between pity and contempt before she left the closet and closed the door silently.

'_Can't say I didn't try.'_ Was Roxanne's last thought towards the Joker.

As she moved to sit on the enormous bed of her best friend, she couldn't help but wonder how things were turning out for Katherine and Bruce on the other side of the mansion.

* * *

_**A/N: Next chapter's sure to be a long one in a shorter amount of time now that finals are done. **_

_**-SongsThatSerenade7  
**_


	17. Be My Date?

**CHAPTER 17**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
**

I hoped to God that standing in front of Bruce's door with my fist poised above me mid-knock didn't constitute as a reason to look creepy.

It wasn't that I was necessarily scared per se . . . my mind had merely decided to recap on every single seductive encounter that's ever occurred between Bruce and I . . . So I was a bit distracted to say in the least.

A strange chill that ran down my back awakened me from my trance. It was so quick that I almost thought I had imagined it. I looked behind me down the desolate hallway in the direction of my room. It was only after I saw no explosions, nor heard any peculiar noises that I felt comfortable with turning back around a few seconds later.

'Strange,' I thought fleetingly. Was someone talking about me? I quickly disregarded the idea, however.

One more deep breath, and I found myself connecting my fist with the dark mahogany wood that separated Bruce from me. A few moments later, to my complete surprised, a tall, skinny bald man with a white mustache greeted me.

"Oh! Alfred! Hello!" I felt a little guilty about the pure shock and disappointment that leaked into my voice.

"Good Morning Miss Quinzel. Master Wayne will be with you shortly. I merely stopped by to drop off the Master's breakfast and will now take my leave." Alfred said with a small, knowing smile.

I had pretty much forgotten about Alfred's existence on this planet altogether. He had made himself so scarce within the last few days that with all the dramatic events taking place, forgetting about him was almost too easy.

Fear oozed into my stomach when I pondered just how much Alfred might know at this point. However, I had little time to delve too deeply into this subject, because Alfred opened the door, welcoming me inside, and the moment my feet crossed the threshold, he brushed past me and left me alone.

A quick glimpse of Bruce's room brought back some dangerous emotions. Strangely enough though, the room appeared in a much more extreme state of disarray. His bed was rumpled and messy, the sheets either thrown off or balled up on his mattress, and the floor was covered in newspapers and police reports and clothing which forced me to have to watch carefully where I stepped. The wall-to-wall flat screen television at the other side of the room was switched on to the news station where the Joker's face popped up every ten seconds or so.

It mildly concerned me to see Bruce obsessing so much over the Joker, because I couldn't exactly pinpoint why. Sure the Joker had crashed the party at Wayne Enterprises and tried to take over the city using Bruce's computer, but, at this point, which significant figure in Gotham _hadn't_ been used as a tool for the Joker's diabolical plans? I can understand taking further precautions and perhaps a more developed sense of paranoia as a result, but not . . . this.

I didn't hear Bruce come up behind me until I heard him clear his throat significantly.

I just about _leapt_ three feet in the air as a result of my shock. I turned to face him immediately, valiantly fighting off the embarrassment I felt from being caught gaping at the disorderly state of his room.

Bruce graced me with a wry smile before sweeping his eyes about the expanse of his room, almost as if he was just taking notice of it himself.

"You're going to have to excuse me for the way my room is right now," Bruce began. To my surprise, he sounded a bit bashful himself. "My mind's just been a bit . . . preoccupied to say in the least."

I decided not do think too deeply about the reasoning behind Bruce's almost obsession with this, and instead switched to my purpose for being here.

"Bruce—" I began.

"You must be wondering why I have called you in here to talk with me." Bruce interrupted, seemingly reading my thoughts and effectively catching me off guard for the second time within the expanse of two minutes.

"Well, yes." I admitted, not exactly knowing why I felt so bashful all of a sudden.

Bruce took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize to you about the other day. I know that I must've come off as a bit . . . eager, when putting it lightly, and I realize now that I had pressured you into something that you might not have actually wanted or had been fully prepared for, so, again I am sorry."

Astonished would have been a gross understatement for what I was actually feeling at that moment.

_Bruce Wayne_ was apologizing to _me _for essentially denying him sex and rejecting his offer for a _relationship_? Was I dreaming? Had I somehow fallen into a parallel universe where Bruce Wayne _wasn't _the most eligible bachelor on this side of the Earth, and that millions of females _were not_ lining up to marry him, so he felt the need to apologize for _pushing me _out of my _comfort zone_? My mind couldn't even begin to grasp the implications of that.

"Bruce, I—that was not the case at all," I began, quickly trying to expel the idea that I was simply not interested, because oh man, was I _interested._ "I just . . ."

And then I realized that I couldn't very well tell Bruce that the only reason why I had left and rejected him of his offer for a relationship was because I was still contemplating my feelings for the deranged psychopath clown that I had situated in one the many closets in his mansion now could I?

"I just . . ." I tried again, failing to summon the correct words to my failing brain.

Turns out, I didn't actually need to, because Bruce had come to his own conclusion.

"You just didn't believe that I could have been after something more than your body." Bruce stated for me, sounding so certain that I didn't know what to do for a moment.

"Yeeeaaah," I agreed uncertainly, realizing that this might serve as my 'get of jail free' card. "Yeah, I did not believe you . . . because of your notorious records with women." I hoped I sounded at the very least just a bit convincing.

Apparently, Bruce took my clear hesitation as mere embarrassment by my 'perception' of him, and seemed to accept it.

Then, to my surprising me further, Bruce began closing the already close distance between us, and it was truly at that moment that I realized just how significantly taller he was than me, which is something not regularly achieved by the male populace. I couldn't help but think of how he was likely an inch or two taller than even the Joker—

The Joker's name alone once again sent a bucket of cold water down my spine, clearing my foggy mind, and reminding me why it is exactly that I can't be with Bruce right now.

I tried to back away as Bruce took one more step towards me, but his hand shot out, and he grabbed my arm, effectively keeping me in place. He leaned forward until his face was only half a foot away from mine and he stared me down, pinning me in his intense gaze.

"Miss Quinzel," Bruce purred, sending shock waves tingling on every surface of my body, and raising goose bumps on my skin. "I assure you, while I DO want . . . no, crave your body in," he paused to look me up and down, "_every_ way imaginable, it's not a commonality for me to proposition women for a _relationship _with me." Bruce's lips curled upwards into an almost mocking grin, as if he'd just told some sort of sardonic joke that I had somehow missed.

"So," Bruce continued, another one of his hands reaching out this time to cup my face, all the while I was utterly hypnotized by his dark eyes. "As you might be able to guess, I want you, and thus, I shall pursue you, or court you, if you will." Bruce smirked, and it was probably one of the sexiest things I've seen him do so far. "And I can be very, _very_ persuasive."

With that, Bruce eventually released me from his hold, both physically, and emotionally. Yet sexually, I could almost taste the tension in the air. It suffocated me, and I began cursing myself, wondering how the hell I'd let this amazing man slip between my fingers each time. I hadn't though that I would have been strong enough to do so.

I hadn't paid much attention to Bruce's attire when first entering the room, but now I couldn't seem to detach my mind from it. He wore form-fitting light blue shirt that accentuated all of his unbelievably defined biceps and abdominal muscles perfectly. He also wore designer dark-washed jeans slung really low on his hips, which revealing a bit of perfectly tanned skin every time he moved. His dark hair was messed up from constantly running his hands through it, and all in all he looked utterly delectable.

"That's all I wanted to tell you by the way." Bruce suddenly said, interrupting my rather enlightening observations.

"What?" I answered, not quite understanding what he was getting at and still trying to return from my lust-induced haze.

"That was the reason as to why I called you in here." He clarified with a dazzling grin as he turned and began to pick up the scattered papers on the floor.

"I was serious about the relationship," Bruce turned back to face me "and I'm not giving up."

I stood there behind him as he began cleaning his room, wondering again why in the world this man chose _me_ to pursue out of every other woman in the world.

I didn't stand there for long, however. Something told me that I had been dismissed, and my time in Bruce's room was over. I slowly turned towards the exit, and tiptoed around all the significant-looking documents on the floor to reach the door.

"Oh, and Katherine?" Bruce called from behind me. I swiveled to look at him, curious as to what he had to say. Bruce suddenly smiled a full, teeth-flashing, eye crinkling, highly amused smile.

"Nice pajamas," He said.

To my absolute horror I looked down at myself to see that I was, in fact, wearing a loose, almost see-through lime green cotton shirt over an even looser pair of light blue striped short shorts. I tentatively lifted hand to touch my hair only to feel the haphazard bird's nest that sat on my head.

My stomach sunk into my heels as I basically flew out of Bruce's room, papers be damned, and slammed his bedroom door behind me. I leaned against it heavily with my eyes shut tightly, trying to will away the pure mortification I felt.

I could hear Bruce in his room chuckling to himself as he continued to pick up papers, and my face inflamed just that much more.

What a great day this was turning out to be so far.

* * *

"Well, well. If it isn't my little Kitty cat. Back from your little, uh, rendezvous with the playboy are you?" The Joker greeted while his voice was laced with sarcasm.

I had burst into the room like the hounds of hell were after me, and I had my shirt halfway lifted before I realized that the Joker had noticed my entrance and would've had the best seats for a private strip show had I he not spoken up and made his presence known.

I sighed miserably and didn't answer his jab. Instead, I walked over to the closet and shut the door on him so that I could change.

I made it two steps before I remembered that I couldn't actually change without other clothes to change into, and to do that, I would need access to the closet. I sighed even more miserably and reopened the closet only to reveal a now narrow-eyed Joker who was observing me quite closely. I tried not to look at him, because I knew that it would only encourage him to make some sort of scathing remark on my appearance or something of the sort.

The Joker, not surprisingly, ignored my silence, and made his comments anyway.

"Why the long face sweetheart? Did the uh, playboy kick you out of his bed before you could get his pants down?" There was nothing soft in the Joker's voice when he said this.

"It wasn't like that at all." I grumbled back moodily. I felt much too hideous to formulate a proper retort at that moment, and instead busied myself with putting an outfit together from the much too extravagant dresses that Alfred had supplied for me in the closet.

"What, so you didn't even get tot the bed today? Aw, how sad."

"It _was not_, LIKE that." I repeated with a bit more venom laced into my voice.

The Joker's eyebrow raised a fraction at my tone. The Joker said nothing however, and merely stared at me unblinkingly.

I began to perspire under his sharp gaze, and after a while, I finally had to turn to look at him; his eyes were burning a hole in my back.

Slowly, I watched the Joker begin to grin at me.

"Ah." Was all he said. I waited for him to say something else, yet he only grinned wider.

"What?" I asked him, the aggravation clear in my voice.

"You were uh, em-bar-rassed, that good ole Brucey saw you in your uh, jammies." The Joker stated; the amusement clear in his voice.

My eyes widened. How the fuck did he do that?

"WHAT?"

The Joker shrugged. "It was either that, or you're having one of your uh, _lady _days." He said, his grin growing impossibly wider by the second.

I opened my mouth to speak; yet he resumed talking before I had the chance.

"What I don't get is why you've got your panties knotted so tightly about this." The Joker commented, his eyes raking over me while doing so.

"You're hair is messy like you've just had a great uh, time in bed if you catch my drift," The Joker waggled his eyebrows at me, "Your legs go on for _miles_, and uh, Kitty, you do realize your shirt is a bit . . . _see-_through dontcha? I mean, personally I'm enjoying the view, but uh . . ."

My arms shot across my chest as I attempted to retrieve what little dignity I had left from the Joker's mortifying observations. I was torn between embarrassment and flattery and I'm almost positive that my face was entirely beet red.

The Joker looked over me calculatingly, like he was trying to figure something out.

I didn't wait another second before turning to the multiple racks of clothing, grabbing the first thing my hands touched, and snatching it to me, knocking a few hangers to the floor in my haste.

I then proceeded to fly out of the closet and slam the door behind me. The Joker laughed uproariously and yelled through the door, "And here I was thinkin' you were a lacy nightgown kinda gall. You never fail to surprise me, Kitty."

"I am burning these clothes." I muttered to myself bitterly.

* * *

"Hey babe!" Roxanne called, as she walked through the door a few minutes later.

I didn't greet her right away because I was still getting changed, and so she took it upon herself to get comfortable on my ocean of a bed.

After another moment or two, she clapped her hands together spontaneously, causing me to gasp and flinch violently. When I turned to look at her, she had the biggest shit-eating grin on her cocoa-skinned face, and I knew immediately what she was going to ask me before she did.

"How did it go with Bruce, girl? Did he profess his undying love to you yet?" She asked me, eagerly.

I groaned miserably. Yep. I knew it.

Roxanne gasped. "He did!"

"He didn't _profess_ his _love_ . . ." I protested weakly.

"But he admitted to having feelings for you!" When I didn't respond right away, Roxanne began to chuckle. "Wow, now, I wonder why this scenario feels so familiar to me. Could it be that someone might've _told you_ that Bruce had a thing for you before he told you himself? Could this mystery person also be someone in this room with you at this very moment? No, see that would mean that I was right. And that NEVER happens."

"Well, I never said he couldn't develop any feelings for me later on . . ." I said, trying to redeem myself.

"Oh no you don't." Roxanne argued. "You said, and I paraphrase, 'Bruce probably just wanted sex' or something like that. Whatever, all I know is that Bruce has a thing for you and you're going to go for it, because he's rich and handsome and sexy, and intelligent, and sexy, and powerful, and did I mention that he was sexy?"

I sighed for the umpteenth time that day. "I know . . ."

Now it was Roxanne's turn to sigh dramatically.

"And you're not going to go for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because you're in love with the Joker." Roxanne stated dully.

"WHAT?" I screeched, my eyes wide.

Roxanne frowned tiredly. "I feel like we've been through this. Katherine, you're in love."

"I'm not IN LOVE!" Am I?

Roxanne rolled her eyes at me. "Oh yes, I remember now. You're NOT in love with the sadistic psycho maniac killer clown that you _just happen _to be protecting under the roof of one of the most influential men in the world. You just think he's cool. Of course, how _silly _of me to believe otherwise."

"I'm only keeping him here because he'd tried to kill me!" I protested a bit too vehemently.

"I remember," Roxanne said, gesturing to herself, "I was there, and _I_ was the one who prevented him from accomplishing his goal!" She placed her hand on her hip and adopted a defiant look. "Remind me again why you haven't reported him to, oh, I don't know. The police!"

"What are THEY gonna do?" I asked her incredulously. "They posses the exact amount of power for this situation that I do! If the Joker wants someone dead, then that person is go-ing. To die."

"Then why are you still breathing?" Roxanne asked me, her voice suddenly soft.

Something in her tone made my retort freeze in my throat. She sounded almost disappointed. As if I was missing something obvious and detrimental to our predicament. I had wondered myself why my life is currently being spared. I had always assumed it to be because something even more gruesome awaited me just around the corner. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe . . .

"We should get rid of the joker." Roxanne suddenly declared. "Tonight."

My jaw dropped. "Tonight? How the hell—"

"Bruce is supposed to be at some dinner party today at some other rich dude's mansion to discuss politics or whatever rich white guys talk about." Roxanne said. She then looked around the room suspiciously, before leaning in close to me.

"Also, found a blind spot in Bruce's surveillance system that might just help us get the Joker out of the mansion."

I gasped. "When did you—"?

Roxanne interrupted me. "What did you think I was doing this entire time since I found out that you were harboring a fugitive? Knitting?"

I exhaled deeply. Honestly, this woman is a gift from God.

I was about to agree before I thought of something. "Wait. What happens when we let him go? What if he tries to murder me again?"

Roxanne smiled mysteriously. "Oh, I don't think you're going to have to worry about that anymore."

I opened my mouth to argue, but was quickly interrupted by a noise in the closet. It sounded like muffled chuckling or something of that sort.

Roxanne huffed in exasperation before taking long strides across the room towards the closet, and swinging the door open with no preamble.

The Joker looked as if he'd dragged himself across the carpet floors in the closet so that his head could press against the door. He'd almost fallen over as soon as the door was opened, and he was obviously holding back fits of laughter.

"How long have you been listening," Roxanne asked him. Her voice sounded dull and defeated, almost as if some big plan had just been foiled.

The Joker shuffled around to face us the best he could, before his smile stretched across his face while looking directly at me. It was by no means a kind smile. It was cruel and malicious and full of amusement. My heart sank deep into my stomach, and suddenly I knew he heard everything.

"Not, uh, much." The Joker answered, his eyes still not leaving mine. Keeping me in place.

"ARGH!" Roxanne yelled. The noise broke me out of his spell, and it seemed to have the same effect for the joker as well, as he now turned to look at her, with annoyance clearly etched across his face.

"Let me guess. You're not going to cooperate in our plan because you're gonna want to be difficult and antagonize my best friend, right?" Roxanne raged. Her body was trembling slightly with the force of her anger, and for a brief moment, I felt a bit of pride for her for standing up to the Joker in such a way. Not even two days ago, she wouldn't look him in the eyes, and now she was full on challenging him with her eyes.

When I looked over to observe the Joker's reaction, I saw my own emotions almost reflected in his eyes. I was immensely surprised to see respect rather than animosity directed at her from him.

The Joker tilted his head and appeared to weight Roxanne's words in his mind. Then he smirked.

"Well, _cupcake_, I was actually gonna applaud you for your sleuthing skills and uh, co-operate with your little, _plan_ . . . but I can be di-fi-cult, and uh, antagonize dear Kitty over there if ya want." The Joker licked his lips. "It's really up to you."

Roxanne's anger appeared to deflate somewhat, and I felt like she knew that the next thing she said would shape the direction of events for the future.

So she said nothing.

After a minute or two composed entirely of holding eye contact in silence, the Joker's eyes lit up.

"I told you this little girlie of yours has some balls there, Kitty." The Joker finally said, not breaking eye contact with Roxanne. "Alright. I will, uh, participate in your little scheme."

Roxanne exhaled at the same time I did. The Joker feigned hurt. "Aw, come on, _ladies._ I'm not a bad guy once ya get to know m—" The Joker couldn't keep up his façade long enough to finish his sentence without breaking up into laughter.

Roxanne and I shared a look.

That when there was a knock on the door.

"Katherine? Are you in there?" It was Bruce.

Roxanne gasped, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. I mimed shushing her violently, and gestured to the opened door where we could clearly see the Joker resisting the impulse to ruin us all.

Roxanne practically leapt to the closet door, and just _barely _stopped herself from slamming it at the last second.

"Oh, Bruce, yes, uh, one moment!" I replied hastily, remembering belatedly that he needed a response.

"Is everything alright?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah! Everything's fine! I'm just changing, so give me a moment," I replied quickly, noticing that my voice might've been just a smidge too high to sound credulous.

Bruce chuckled. "Huh, maybe I _should_ come in, then." He mused.

"Don't you dare, Bruce! I'm in here too, so you're just gonna have to wait." Roxanne piped up, trying to sound lightly scolding.

Bruce made this weird coughing noise, and then cleared his throat. "Right then. I'll be waiting outside when you're done."

I heard a few footsteps retreating from the door to my room, and I exhaled in relief.

I felt a few hands on my back seconds before Roxanne shoved me towards Bruce. I swiveled around to face her, my surprise, evident.

"What are you doing?" I mouthed frantically.

"GO!" She whispered harshly.

I shook my head violently. "I can't go out there!" I whispered back.

Roxanne shooed me anyways. When I remained in place, she huffed in frustration.

"How suspicious would it look if you didn't go out to talk to him?" Roxanne whispered before gesturing towards the closet and the door significantly.

I sighed and rubbed my face with my right hand, finally accepting that I once again had to deal with Bruce and his seductive ways twice within the same morning. Hell, within the same _two hours._

Before Roxanne could say anything else, I lifted my hands up in surrender and quickly straightened up my dress before opening the door and stepping outside the room.

I looked out into the hallway on my left and saw nothing, but when I looked to my right, I found Bruce leaning against the wall in the hallway, appearing to be lost in thought with a small smile on his face.

I couldn't help but let my eyes wander. He had changed from when I saw him this morning as well. Gone were the jeans and form fitting light-blue shirt he wore, only to be replaced by a midnight-black suit tailored perfectly to fit his body. From his designer shoes to his Armani watch to his deep velvety red tie and perfectly combed hair parted to his right and freshly shaved face, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a high-ended women playgirl magazine.

My cheeks flushed deeply when he noticed me gaping like a fish at him, and the wide smile he graced me with almost took my breath away. This man was _gorgeous._

Bruce frowned mockingly. "You're not going to try talking to me behind from behind that door, are you?"

"What?" I looked to see that I was, in fact peering at him from behind the door. "Oh, no. Of course not." I immediately stepped out from behind the protection of the door and Bruce's eyebrows rose slightly.

My eyes widened and I looked at myself to see, apparently for the first time today, what I was wearing. Turns out, I had accidentally chosen a deep violet one shouldered dress that hugged my chest and waist, and flew down in layers across my hips, almost reaching my knees.

I wore no make-up, nor had I combed my hair at all, so I resembled something like a hobo who'd just found a dress on the street and had decided to wear it. I wanted to burn myself alive at that point.

Bruce however, clearly didn't share the same sentiments as I did. He whistled lowly.

"Wow. I hope your wear that dress to the ball tonight." Bruce said in awe.

My ears, however totally ignore the compliment, and only caught the second half of his sentence.

"Party? What party?"

Bruce seemed to have snapped out of his appraisals at my words. He placed a hand to his forehead as if he'd made a mistake.

"Oh, yes well, I hadn't intended to proposition you in such a way, but I suppose nothing can be done about it now." Bruce was almost cute when he was embarrassed I thought warmly.

"I was invited to attend a party with the mayor and other significant figures from around the east coast to discuss the funding of a private army focused entirely for Gotham, but it's more of a soiree, and I was also encouraged to invite a date, so . . ." Bruce trailed off suggestively.

"So you want ME to be YOUR date?" I asked him, my voice growing shrill. "But, aren't the 'dates' of powerful business men expected to . . . mingle and be _charming_ and whatnot?"

Bruce tilted his head in confusion. "Well, basically yes. Why? Is that an issue?"

"Uh . . ." How do I convey to Bruce that I have a tendency to be reclusive and anti-social among parasitic and boring old men?

I looked to Bruce, ready to gently reject his offer, only to be halted by what was sure to be one of the most beseeching looks I've ever seen on any man's face.

He appeared as if anything I might've said that didn't include an 'okay' or better yet, an 'absolutely', would ultimately crush him. Looking into his eyes was also a big mistake on my part. In his eyes, I saw everything he's done for me, from letting me hide in his house, to protecting me to being so understanding and jeopardizing his safety for me, that I lost all ability to say no.

I sighed. "No. No, it's not an issue. I'll be your date for the party."

Bruce smiled brightly before striding over and enveloping my in a big hug. He laughed, and I felt the vibrations of it. "And here I was preparing to guilt-trip you in order for you to accept." He laughed.

'_You basically did,'_ I thought sardonically, trying vainly to accept my fate for the evening.

Finally, Bruce released me and straightened out his suit. "Right. Well, I'm off to the city to attend a meeting, but I'll return to pick you up at eight o'clock sharp tonight. Sound good?"

"Yes, that sounds fine. I'll be ready by eight." And if not eight, I added mentally, then hopefully around the eight-ish hour.

"Great." Bruce said, smiling widely again, before turning to walk down the hallway to the stairs, looking back at me every so often.

When he was no longer in my sight, that's when the spell was finally broken, and I returned to my room.

When I opened the door, Roxanne almost fell over into me. My shoulders sagged. "You were eavesdropping on me?" I asked her rhetorically.

Roxanne chose not to answer that. "Babe! What the fuck were you thinking! You can't go with Bruce to his party tonight! Tonight is the night that we're gonna get the Joker out of here!" She whispered frantically.

Oh, shit. I had completely forgotten about that.

"You forgot, didn't you!" She yelled.

I looked at her guiltily. "What was I supposed to do, babe? He's done so much for us! I couldn't say no . . ."

Roxanne threw her hands on her hips. "He charmed you, didn't he?"

I gave her an even guiltier look. Roxanne sighed.

"Listen," I began, thinking about how I could turn this around. "Why don't we just get rid of him earlier then we planned? That way, he's gone, and I could still go to the party with Bruce."

Roxanne looked incredulously at me. "You want to try sneaking out a from Bruce's mansion in BROAD DAYLIGHT?" Roxanne threw her hands up in the air. "It has to be _dark_ in order for this plan to work. And now the earliest time it gets completely dark is eight o'clock!"

I sighed and began rubbing my face, trying to think of something else. I certainly couldn't just cancel on Bruce. That would almost be worse than saying no in the first place.

Roxanne was watching me stress, and finally it looked like she'd come to a conclusion.

"The original plan still stands." She finally declared. My heart filled with dread.

"Roxanne, I can't bail on Bru—"

"I know that." Roxanne sighed. She looked at me determinedly. "You're going to the party with Bruce."

She took a deep breath. "I, am going to be the one to smuggle out the Joker."

* * *

_**A/N: Hey, I'm back. I had to take a break due to testing and the SAT's and basically not having ANYTIME AT ALL to do ANYTHING remotely close to writing, but like i said, I'm not giving up on this story, so eventually I will update. I highly doubt I'll go so long without updating again, but just in case, I've baked fresh virtual "Sorry brownies" for you all. :D**_

-LOTSA LOVE, .Serenade.7


	18. Playing Dress Up

**_A/N: UGH! Done with finals, done with school for the summer, done with these long ass periods of time where I don't get a chance to write. I want to properly than all of you that left me reviews of my last chapter, because they only enouraged me to write something where I could. SO SERIOUSLY. THANK YOU. Even though i don't reply to you guys, i personally read, EACH and EVERY review. Sometimes twice. :D ENJOY THE CHAPTER!_**

* * *

**CHAPTER 18**

* * *

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It took me a couple of seconds for her words to properly sink in. I blinked owlishly when they did.

"You can't be serious." I deadpanned, a smirk slowly creeping across my face. Roxanne looked as if she was trying not to take offense.

"I'm as serious as a heart attack."

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Roxanne, the Joker absolutely abhors your very existence on this Earth! How do you expect to sneak him out of the mansion _unseen,_ without his complete cooperation?" I was aware that this was a very trying situation, but I couldn't help but see the obvious humor in her idea.

Roxanne frowned. "Well, shouldn't the fact that _I'm _going to be the one taking him out only _further_ encourage him to leave?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was interrupted. "AND, what other choice do you have, hmm? This will be the first time Bruce has left his own home in almost SIX days! When else will we receive such an opportunity?"

"We could always wait until Bruce has to leave agai—"

"You plan to hold _The Joker_ in Bruce Wayne's mansion _longer_ than absolutely necessary? Are you _insane?_ Don't you remember just how many CLOSE CALLS we've had since we began holding the Joker hostage?" Roxanne shrilled. "You wanna _continue_ to risk it _just because_ you don't trust me enough to pull off the escape mission?"

I back peddled quickly. "Girl, it's not that I don't trust you—"

"Then why else would you be arguing against this?" She demanded.

"Look at your circumstances!" I argued back. "It's a nearly impossible task for _two_ people, let alone one!"

Roxanne glared at me. "It was my plan from the beginning. How do you know just how plausible it is?"

"Roxanne—"

"LISTEN TO ME!" Roxanne yelled in frustration. "You have. No. Other. Choice. Do you understand that? This is literally the only opportunity we're going to get to properly execute the Joker's escape! You _can't_ cancel on Bruce at this point without appearing suspicious, and we _can't_ keep the Joker here any longer, because with everyday he's here, the higher the odds are that we'll be caught!"

Roxanne's chest was heaving by the end of her emotional rant, and she looked close to tears. It was obvious that this little argument was not only angering her, but hurting her too. I could also clearly see that she perceived my lack of trust in the situation to really be a lack of trust in _her._ No wonder she felt so passionately about this.

I thought carefully before responding to Roxanne's outburst. Here was the girl that literally risked her life twice to save me from the very thing I'm trying to protect, and now, she's doing it again, aware that her actions might result in the deaths of more people, because she thinks I love him, and she wants me safe.

I couldn't let her do this. I _wouldn't _let her do this, but something in her eyes told me that this time, it didn't matter what I said or did; she was going to smuggle the Joker out of Bruce's mansion _tonight. _

"Is there anything I can say that will change your mind, girl?" I asked softly.

Roxanne stared at me and shook her head.

I inhaled deeply and tried to ignore the large pit in my stomach before I uttered the magic word.

"Okay."

Roxanne recoiled as if she'd been burned. "O—Okay?"

"What did you expect me to say? I can't really answer any other way because you're just going to argue." I said. Roxanne squinted as if she expected there to be some sort of catch.

"Listen." I continued. "You're right. This situation calls for a little bit of faith in the impossible, and, really, who else could I possibly trust for such a situation than my best friend?"

Roxanne didn't say anything for a few seconds, but to my utter horror, I watched as her eyes began tearing up.

"Oh my God! How did I make you sad?" I gasped, growing terrified. "I thought this was what you wanted! If you're scared, you know you don't have to do—"

I was cut off by Roxanne's sudden laughter. Her laugh was thick with emotion, though, and I could tell that she really was about to cry.

"No, Katherine." She said, smiling through her tears. "I'm not sad. It just, uh," She took a shaky breath. "Knowing that you actually trust me with something like this . . . it—you can't possibly know how much it means to me."

My face softened and even _I _was tempted to cry.

"Roxanne. I'll always trust you! You're my best friend! I will never trust anyone on this Earth as much as I trust you! So don't ever think that my trepidation is due to a lack of faith, because that's simply not possible."

Roxanne gave me a watery smile.

"Right. You girls both have vaginas, and you love each other. I get it. Can we please quit it with the uh, sappy friendship chick flick, now?" The Joker piped up, effectively killing the mood and scaring us beyond reason.

God, we really have to get another room to talk about these things! It took us a few beats to regain our composure and absorb the fact that our touching moment had been effectively ruined. Roxanne was the first one to speak.

"Joker, we're trying to help you. Can you at least allow us these few moments to be best friends?" Roxanne sighed.

"Can you at least take that '_best friends_' shit somewhere else? I thought I was going to uh, vom—mit." The Joker retorted.

Roxanne rolled her eyes so hard I actually thought for a moment that she'd hurt herself.

"Well, now that you've been properly informed of our plan," Roxanne said, her words oozing sarcasm. "I suppose you now realize that you have to cooperate in order for this to work?"

There was a silence behind the door, as the Joker said nothing for a few moments. Eventually, we heard him clear his throat.

"So, Kitty, don't you have to get ready for your oh-so-special _date _with Brucey-boy?" The Joker randomly said, ignoring Roxanne's question. He sounded way too calm yet almost mocking; a clear indication of his displeasure at the idea. I froze as dread began to seep into my heart, and I closed my eyes slowly, willing the embarrassment to go away.

"It's not a date!" I replied as vehemently as I could.

The Joker just snorted. "You're uh, kinda naïve, Kit Kat."

"Joker—"

"Are you not at all familiar with his uh, rep-u-tation?" The Joker asked condescendingly. He didn't, however, give me a chance to reply. "Because if you, were . . . you'd know that the playboy sleeps with _all _the women who go with him to his little dinner parties."

My eyes widened upon hearing the end of the Joker's statement. The problem, was that I _was_ familiar with the rumors. Who wasn't? So why had I agreed to the da—to accompanying him to the party? I didn't really want to believe that I subconsciously (or worse, consciously) wanted to sleep with him, but at the moment, I couldn't manage to formulate a proper excuse for myself.

And the Joker knew that.

Luckily, Roxanne came to my rescue. "What was she supposed to do when he asked her to the party? Say no? Don't you think that she would've appeared suspicious?"

"Oh, I agree with the logic of saying yes, _princess." _The Joker replied, sounding amused. "I simply believe that our little mouse should know just what trap she's fallen into."

I shook my head and began to feel a bit ridiculous standing in my room, talking to a partially opened closet door. The Joker was right. I _did_ need to get ready for my da—_outing_ with Bruce.

I strode over to the door leading into the hallway, opened it with very little hesitation, and left the room.

Roxanne, as always, was right behind me.

* * *

The Joker sat fuming in his little corner in the closet, feeling all the more like a child who's been forced to share his favorite toy.

'_Except she's more than just a toy.' _A distant voice whispered in the back of his mind.

The Joker's face twisted into a snarl as he violently forced the voice into the deep recesses of his mind. The girl was merely an object to him. Perhaps, the object of his affection, he might concede, but a trophy, nonetheless.

The Joker, in that moment, came to a conclusion.

He carefully slid his hands, which were bound tightly to his back in what was actually an impressive knot, slightly upwards, and performed an intricate series of twists until finally, after a few minutes and a serious case of an Indian Burn, his hands sprung free.

Next he carefully slid one hand out of the clothes that had been binding him for four days, and reached to pull a small device out of the back of his left shoe. He unfolded it carefully to reveal a cell-phone like device with only two speakers, and three keys on it. Smirking lightly to himself, he pressed one of the buttons, and put the device up to his ear.

It rang about three times before a gruff voice answered.

"_What?" _

"Missed me?" The Joker replied sweetly. He was rewarded with a series of loud spluttering and coughs.

"_Boss! It's really good ta hear from ya—"_

The Joker rolled his eyes at his goon's blatant attempt to kiss his ass.

"I don't have the uh, time for your _bullshit_, Chuckles. Get a pen. I'm gonna need a few things tonight." The Joker licked his lips and smiled cruelly.

"Tell me. How do feel about entertaining a few party guests, hmmm?"

* * *

"There's still time to cancel before the party, right?" I asked Roxanne desperately, as she began to detail all the different beautifying procedures that I was going to have to endure in order to look presentable on Bruce's arm tonight.

Roxanne's head whipped around so that she could look directly into my eyes.

"No. There is absolutely NO time, because YOU already said yes, and YOU are going to be on HIS arm, TO-night, come hell or high water. Yes?" Her eyebrows were raised, and she seemed like she was daring me to say something against it.

In any other circumstance, I would take her up on it, if not for anything else than the fact that my knee-jerk reaction to a blatant command is anger and rebellion, but for this instance, I knew that she was just trying her best to help me, and so I stood down.

As if someone had just thrown a switch, Roxanne went from challenging to docile within the span of a few seconds.

We continued down the seemingly endless hallway inside of Bruce's mansion in search of all of the spa facilities that he'd mentioned to us earlier in our stay.

If only either one of us actually knew what floor we were on in the God-only-knows-how-many-stories-tall mansion.

Roxanne suddenly stopped us and looked around. "Do you think we might have passed it?" She asked me.

I sighed, and was about to reply with some sarcastic remark before we heard someone clearing their throats behind us.

Roxanne and I simultaneously gasped and spun to identify the mysterious intruder. The man had shock-white hair, was balding on the top of his head, fashioned a well-trimmed black mustache, and sported an expensive looking butler's outfit.

When we finally saw who it was, we both exhaled in relief. "Alfred," Roxanne breathed. "Good God, make some noise when you walk, please. You almost gave me a stroke!"

"Might I inquire as to what you two ladies are up to?" Alfred asked politely, smiling a bit.

I don't know why I began to blush a bit then. Perhaps it was the way that the light British lilt in his voice made everything he said sound as if he'd just caught two children stealing from their mother's cookie jar.

"Um, we were just . . ," I began. I then looked to Roxanne for help.

She didn't fail to come to my rescue. "Katherine has a date with Bruce tonight at eight, and so we were both in search of the spa in order to get her all dolled up." Roxanne said while grinning at me.

I glared back at her mildly. I knew that she didn't need to delve that deeply into our plans.

But Alfred merely smiled. "Ah." He said, not at all phased by that little snippet of information, "Well, you're never going to come across it down this particular hallway." Alfred turned around and gestured for us to follow him.

"Come. Master Bruce has already taken care of all the preparations. He encourages you to help yourself to whatever facilities you require as well as any gowns either of you might fancy."

"Either of us?" Roxanne squeaked, before catching herself and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Alfred only smiled demurely at her. "Why yes, Miss Jackson. _Either _of you." Roxanne looked as if she was barely restraining the urge to tackle Alfred into a hug. I, however, knew that such a reaction would result in nothing more than extreme awkwardness, and so I linked arms with her, effectively preventing her from mauling Alfred.

Alfred observed the subtle motion with slight interest, before turning on his heel to direct us to whatever wonderful experience that Bruce had in store for us.

* * *

We had arrived at the spa area in Bruce's mansion sometime in the late morning, and we didn't exit until two hours before eight. Another hour and forty-five minutes were spent deciding what to choose in a closet that literally held every type of evening gown color and style in existence.

When had finally selected one, and Roxanne stood behind me in my room admiring my appearance as I stared at myself in the mirror. I do not believe—no, I definitely cannot recount any other circumstance where I loved a mirror as much as I did in that moment. I twirled and peered at myself from every angle I could, hassling Roxanne to check for any unnecessary or otherwise unfavorable exposures, and after what was likely the seventeenth time I asked, I felt satisfied that everything was intact.

"You're going to give Bruce a heart attack." Roxanne stated with absolute seriousness. I feared for a moment that Roxanne might unintentionally begin crying, not because she felt emotional, but instead because she was keeping her eyes open so long drinking in my dress that her eyes began to water.

Well, I suppose she might've been emotional. Even _I _was getting there myself.

But of course, a certain closeted hostage who just couldn't help but break the silence interrupted my moment.

"Did someone uh, die in there? Why are you two so qui-et?" The Joker asked from his place in the closet.

Roxanne looked questioningly at me, and because of our strong sister-like bond, I knew that she was asking me if she could open the closet and let the Joker see my appearance.

My newfound confidence overshadowed my fear and in a moment of insanity I found myself nodding my head minutely.

Roxanne grinned spectacularly and pivoted on her heel to stride toward the closet door. With very little preamble, she turned pushed down on the elaborate silver handle of the door and swung it open. The Joker looked up.

"Oh, daylight! Finally, a guy's gotta be able to breathe in some fresh air every . . . once . . ." The Joker's exclamation trailed off as his eyes finally landed on me.

I could see that he was looking at me through the mirror, so I took a deep breath and turned to face him.

For once, in my entire time observing and analyzing this madman, his face showed absolutely no indication of his mood, or any other emotion I could recognize.

His eyes trailed from my small black wedged heels to my shapely, smooth calves, to the hem of my hunter green satin dress that fanned out from my waist, which was accentuated by a light green sash that wrapped itself around my waist just below my chest and tied together in a bow behind my back. His eyes then paused for a second on my chest where the deep diamond-shaped neckline exposed a generous amount of cleavage and ended at the base of my neck, where a pearl necklace also sat.

When he got to my face, which was illuminated by the best make-up money can buy; my dark, purple, silvery eye shadow and mascara made my hazel eyes pop out and my hair was done up in an elegant French twist with a few strands of curled hair that fell in my face and behind my ears.

No one made any noise, and I don't think that I was breathing at all.

Finally, the Joker's eyes locked on mine. His pink tongue darted out to lick his lips before smiling cruelly at me.

"So," He said. "Looks like you're finally going to whore yourself out to the man with more notches on his belt than a punk rocker wannabe." He snorted maliciously and I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

He cocked his head to the side and grinned. "I always thought you to be a classy kind a gal, though, Kitty. Shame."

I couldn't take another second of this. Without waiting for him to say anything worse, I turned and stormed out of the room and into the hall. I was going to wash this make-up off my face and tell Bruce that I can't go.

Roxanne watched the entire interaction with outrage. She turned around to face the poor excuse of a clown and glared with as much venom as she could muster.

She didn't have to say anything, because she knew that the Joker could see it in her eyes. The pure, unfiltered _hatred _that resonated from her person alone could melt steel. She thought that he was a monster.

Without another glance, she raced out the door, slamming it behind her.

* * *

The Joker's mood quickly turned black as he listened to the sound of the door slamming shut as it echoed off the walls of the room.

"_How dare she look at me like I'm some kinda scum on her shoes." _He promised himself that he would take extra care to find a way to make her regret her actions until she begs him to kill her.

The Joker tried not to think about why it was that the girl's look angered him so much. It wasn't as if every single fucker in Gotham didn't already hate his very existence on this Earth.

It couldn't have been that he felt . . . guilty. The Joker snorted loudly. Guilt was something he used to manipulate others. It's how the simpering idiots in this town lost their sanity.

Guilt. What a ridiculous notion.

However, in his mind, the devastated look on Kitty's face replayed over and over again, each time twisting the Joker's stomach in a way that he didn't even wanna begin to analyze.

"The bitch deserved it." The Joker muttered nastily. Even the thought of Katherine hanging around that rich, coddled, playboy who is famous for not keeping it in his pants long enough to allow blood to flow back into his brain, annoyed the Joker to no end.

He remembered just how goddamn _excited _Kitty looked about going on the date with the loser: how her skin was literally glowing, and how her big smile lit up her entire face, and the Joker's blood began to boil.

Finally, the Joker thought about that rich prick showing off _his Kitty_ to all the other uptight wealthy cowards who'll spend the entire night _flirting_ and flashing their cash at her, and complimenting her on her fucking stunning dress, and—

The Joker began to seethe angrily. He was NOT about to let some pampered playboy steal HIS property from him. He was THE JOKER for fuck's sake.

* * *

With that, the Joker decided that he wasn't going to wait any longer. He had a party to attend.

"Babe!" Roxanne yelled, running after me at a full sprint.

I was power-walking at a pace that people usually jog at, so I reached the bathroom just as Roxanne caught up to me.

"Hey! Katherine, stop!" Roxanne grabbed my arm and prevented me from going into the bathroom.

I pulled my arm out of her grip easily and didn't look at her while I tried to get the door open. Roxanne slammed it shut with her hand.

"What are you doing?" She shrilled.

"Let me go in." I responded emotionlessly.

"Not until you tell me what you're doing." She said stubbornly, glaring and slamming the door shut every time I made a move to open it.

I looked at her angrily. "I'm not going to the party."

"LIKE FUCKING HELL YOU AREN'T!" She exploded, her face contorting to match the ferocity of her disbelief. "What about the plan?"

When I didn't respond, she got in my face and forced me to look at her, which I did so, albeit reluctantly. Her face softened.

"Girl, you look beautiful, and you know it—well, you _knew it_, before that fucker told you otherwise. Which, he so clearly did, _because you looked so good!_"

I looked away. I didn't want to admit that I was hoping that Joker would express some kind of interest, make a playful sarcastic comment, _anything_ besides insult me like that.

Was he being jealous? He did take his time drinking in my image, but was that more out of shock than desire? I just didn't know.

"Katherine." Roxanne insisted, once again forcing me to look at her. "Don't you dare back out of this. Can you imagine how Bruce will react once he sees you like this? He's been panting after you like a puppy in heat for almost a week, and I won't be surprised if it would take a crowbar to pry his hands off of you tonight!"

She smiled at me. "I've never seen you look so confident when staring at yourself in the mirror, and you're going to let all of that go just because the Joker found himself in a fit of _jealousy?" _

"Roxanne—" I began wearily.

"Look! I know you're disappointed, and I get it. TRUST ME. But right now, at the very least, you need to think about your blossoming career as an artist, and how that's all being jeopardized. Think of your LIFE. And mine!"

I looked at Roxanne's face as she so desperately said this, and immediately I felt bad. Here I was once again throwing her to the sharks because of my pride and my ego.

At the very least, even if the Joker thinks that I'm dressed as a prostitute, and even if Bruce might share that sentiment, I have to attend the party; For her sake.

Slowly, I released all the tension I held in one long exhale, and nodded.

"Ladies?"

Roxanne and I both snapped our heads at the sound of the voice. It was Alfred, and he was smiling slightly.

"Master Bruce is waiting for you in the foyer." He stood patiently, waiting to escort us.

Roxanne looked at me. "Are you ready?" She asked cautiously.

I took another breath and nodded, smiling slightly.

* * *

Bruce was standing at the bottom of long, luxurious staircase, checking his watch and his breath and looking all the more adorably nervous.

I smiled slightly when I saw him, and Roxanne ran down the staircase without me.

"Bruce?" I heard her say. Bruce spun around so fast that I almost didn't see it, and when he saw Roxanne standing there he exhaled and smiled a bit sheepishly. I heard Roxanne laugh.

"Don't worry, it's fine. I take it you would like to see her?" Roxanne joked.

Bruce chuckled. "If that's okay."

"It's more than okay . . ." Roxanne said, and swept her arm towards the staircase, I took that as my cue to reveal myself.

I walked out slowly from the wall I was standing by to perch myself at the top of the staircase. Bruce turned his head to follow the direction of Roxanne's arm, and once he spotted me, his eyes widened and his eyebrows flew into his hairline.

Slowly, I descended the stairs, feeling a bit nervous with Bruce's eyes on me, and I had to look down a bit in order to avoid his hot, intense gaze.

On the inside, my heart was flying. The way that he was looking at me made all the previous thoughts of me resembling a hooker or looking trashy take a death leap out the window.

I found myself beaming and I found that I couldn't stifle my grin even a little bit.

Finally, I reached the bottom of the stairs and approached Bruce. He stood there, still clearly astonished, drinking in my appearance like a man dying of thirst.

"You look . . ." Bruce uttered, incapable of finding the words.

"Fantastic?" Roxanne supplied from where she stood.

"Absolutely marvelous?" Alfred volunteered. I hadn't even noticed that he was in the room.

"Unbelievable." Bruce breathed.

I smiled and tried in vain to hide my blush. "You don't look so bad yourself."

And he didn't; he looked the opposite of bad. He wore an all black Armani suit with white cuffs, golden cufflinks, expensive-looking black shoes, and a dark green tie. (I wonder if it was just a coincidence that we happened to match?)

But his hair was parted to the side and combed to perfection, and as always, his chiseled face, brown eyes and dark eyebrows were entrancing.

Roxanne coughed after a moment of letting us stare a one another.

"Don't you two have some sort of engagement to uphold, or something?" Roxanne askedv suggestively.

Bruce and I blinked, and stepped away from one another momentarily. He straightened up his tie while I smoothed out my dress, nervously, and we were both smiling inwardly. And, well, outwardly too.

Bruce offered his arm to me.

"Are you ready to go?" I looked at Roxanne silently asking if she was sure that she was going to be able to initiate the "plan" and she nodded encouragingly once, affirming that she would.

I looked up at Bruce and smiled. "I am. Shall we?" I placed my left arm in the crook of his right elbow.

Bruce laughed. "Oh we most certainly shall."

"Have her home at a decent time, you hear?" Roxanne mock-scolded.

I rolled my eyes and grinned at her. Bruce however, just smiled mysteriously to himself and led me to the entrance of the mansion.

There, Alfred already stood, holding the door open for us to both exit out of. I turned one more time to wave at my best friend as she stood alone, right where we left her, and smiling like a proud parent.

An impressive Mercedes car sat at the bottom of the driveway leading up to Bruce's house.

I couldn't stop the 'Oh my God' that left my mouth when I realized that we would be driving in such a magnificent vehicle to that party. Part of me hoped that the ride would take a while, so that I could further enjoy myself during it.

Bruce flashed me a 1000-kilowatt smile.

"Wanna drive?"

* * *

**A/N: Like i said, i didn't really have time to write with all the craziness in my life, but i had to get SOMETHING out there to you guys. I'll be back soon, but just to be sure, i think you should all guilt trip me in to updating via Reviews. ;) Just a suggestion. **

**~Lotsa Love, .Serenade.7  
**


	19. JailBreak

**_A/N: This is the second longest chapter I've ever written, and it's a reward for those of you that reviewed my story and stuck with it this entire time. Enjoy._**

* * *

**CHAPTER 19**

* * *

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Roxanne smiled demurely as she stood there and watched her best friend practically launch herself at the handsome playboy before snatching the keys out of his hands giddily (And then begin apologizing profusely for her action, of course).

She took one last look at the two before turning to close the 1-story high maple wood doors that led to the foyer of Bruce Wayne's impressive mansion. Only, Alfred's was the only face that greeted her when she went back inside. He was smiling kindly.

"Miss Jackson," Alfred said as Roxanne began to climb the stairs. "Might I recommend a trip to Master Wayne's outdoor facilities? There are a plethora of sports and other recreational activities that would serve to entertain you throughout the duration of the night."

Roxanne paused mid-step up a stair and actually considered taking up the friendly butler on his offer. However, her shoulders sagged a bit when she realized that before she could do anything else, she would have to make sure that she accomplished her significantly more pressing task, so that HOPEFULLY her nightmare could finally end.

Roxanne sighed. "That all sounds so wonderful, Alfred, but there are some things that I have to take care of before I can do anything."

Alfred looked a bit taken aback. "Is that so? Well, Miss Jackson, if you require ANY assistance, I would be honored to—"

"Some _Girl_ things." Roxanne suddenly stressed, giving Alfred a significant look, and hoping to drive the old man away from any ideas to 'assist' her.

Alfred blanched. "Oh! Yes, well," He cleared his throat and was obviously uncomfortable by the way the conversation had turned. "I trust that you have everything under control, then. I shall take my leave, and I will be in the kitchens should you require anything."

Roxanne smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Always a pleasure, Miss Jackson."

She waited for him to be completely gone from the room before practically bolting up the stairs and sprinting down the corridors to Katherine's room where the Joker was being held.

When she arrived, she immediately put her plan into action.

"_Okay, so do I untie him first?" _She asked herself._ "No, that would as stupid as it would be potentially fatal. Um, geez, I guess I'm going to have to help him stand . . ." _Roxanne felt the dread pool in the middle of her stomach as she began considering the implications of what her task held for her.

With a grudging sigh, she crossed the room and walked to the closet. With little to no preamble, she grabbed the elegant doorknob and swung it open to reveal . . .

Nothing?

In the place where the Joker had originally been, were clothes strewn about the room. Some looked like they'd been torn at ruthlessly, while others remained in tact, but still tied in knots.

Fear, like nothing Roxanne has ever experienced, crept up on her with every second that the truth of her situation sank in. Goosebumps broke out across her skin and suddenly she felt very, VERY exposed.

Roxanne desperately wanted to turn around to assure herself that there was absolutely nothing, and no one behind her waiting to end her life, but her terror rendered her immobile, and entirely helpless to whatever dangers might prove to exist.

It took a few moments for her eyes to register what looked like a card on the floor in the center of all the mess. Roxanne felt her shaky legs carry her into the closet, and then to the item on the floor.

From the height at which she stood, she couldn't quite make out the words, so slowly, she crouched down to the floor, and gingerly picked up the tiny card in her hands.

It was a note from the Joker. It read:

"_Princess, _

_I think I'm gonna go out for a little stroll. See a movie, maybe eat a nice little dinner . . . you know, stretch the old limbs. No offense, your little 'escape plan' was cute, but I believe it's time to let the professional do his job, hmm? Oh, and say hi to Kitty for me. Actually, I think I'm going to do that myself. Don't wait up for me!"_

Roxanne screamed when she heard the door of the closet click shut. Disbelief shot through her at the sound and she dreaded what came next.

Immediately she dropped the card and stood up to make her way to the door. Sure enough, when she tried the doorknob it wouldn't turn.

"No," Roxanne whispered. Now she was frantically trying to turn the knob, and when that failed, she threw herself against the door.

However, she'd never actually thrown herself against a door like that before, so she only succeeded in injuring her shoulder. Slowly, Roxanne sank to the floor and tried to resist the urge to break out into frustrated tears.

Why the fuck did she go INSIDE? How could she have fallen for such an obvious trap? You'd think that after watching all those stupid horror movies that the people would know the first thing to do when something begins to go horribly wrong is RUN. But no, apparently, she was an idiot as well as a failure.

Roxanne did begin crying when she realized that the Joker would probably kill Katherine, and that it was all her fault, and that there was absolutely nothing she could do.

Roxanne froze.

Well, there WAS _one _thing that she could do, but it might potentially reveal everything.

"_What's worse to you, Roxanne? Losing Katherine, or going to jail for life?" _Roxanne asked herself.

She didn't even hesitate.

"ALFRED!"

* * *

Never in my life did I ever take a moment out of my time to consider the word "Showstopper." I used to believe that a "showstopper" was an event, an action, maybe. I perceived "showstoppers" to be enacted by famous people who would do something considered to be scandalous, or merely non-conventional, like setting something on fire, or randomly breaking out into song and dance during a gathering.

However, I was terribly, grossly, horrifically, off my mark with that one. What I didn't stop to acknowledge, were that PEOPLE could be the showstoppers, because that is EXACTLY what happened with Bruce and me when we entered that party.

All conversation in the room simply stopped. People _cut themselves off_ in the middle of their sentences just to look at us.

Bruce and I were laughing a bit when we arrived at the hotel where the party was taking place after the near-death-experience car ride that consisted of me almost killing us from behind the wheel of Bruce's Mercedes, due to my speeding.

We chatted a bit on the elevator up and laughed a bit more when we got to the top floor. We were so engrossed in our conversation, actually, that it took us a few moments to recognize the crippling silence that accompanied us into the party.

I noticed it first. It was like a tickle at the back of my neck that raised Goosebumps all over my body. _Hundreds_ of eyes were scrutinizing my every move; so much so, that I gasped quietly from the sensation.

Bruce looked at me in confusion; he was going on about a tale from his more mischievous years as a kid, when he heard my gasp, which then alerted him to the awkwardness surrounding him.

I couldn't, for the life of me, understand why I was suddenly the main attraction in this circus show. I mean, it's not that strange to be accompanying Bruce to this party is it? My thoughts didn't ever get too much of a chance to develop, however. Because Bruce immediately put a possessive hand at the small of my back, and led me further into the dining hall.

Suddenly Bruce broke out into a professional-looking dazzling smile directed at everyone who was staring. He then turned to me casually and huffed in exasperation.

"Darling," He purred, shocking me to my core. "I TOLD you I should have went with the _blue _satin tie and Versace suit. Not the _green _one."

I don't know why, but those were apparently the magic words. The entire room warmed up about ten degrees, and people tittered and smiled with amusement and went back to their previous conversations.

My face screwed up in confusion. I looked at Bruce to find that he was smiling a bit triumphantly.

"I apologize for that." Bruce said, turning to face me. "This happens every once in a while when I escort, um . . ." Bruce suddenly looked sheepish, and I suddenly became very interested to see what his response would be.

"Women who aren't models or celebrities to parties."

I nodded in comprehension. Right. Translation: I was a faceless entity that was seen on the arm of one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

I resisted the urge to sigh, and immediately began swallowing the unwanted emotions that were swimming to the surface of my currently impassive face.

Bruce jolted, as if just realizing something horrible. "Oh!" He exclaimed, turning a few heads in our direction. "Oh." He repeated, dialing it down a bit. "No, Katherine, I really didn't mean—"

"It's fine, I completely understand." I interrupted quickly. I didn't want to think that Bruce's words had affected me in any way, because, well, it's true. I'm not a celebrity, and I'm definitely not a model.

Bruce opened his mouth, clearly rearing up to say something important, when something caught his eye behind me, and a slow smile lit up his face.

"You said you were an artist, right?" Bruce asked me mysteriously.

I blinked. "I did, but why—"

"Come on, there's someone I want you to meet." Without letting me get another word in, Bruce placed a hand at the small of my back and ushered me to rather prestigious looking group who were laughing heartily about something that was said.

I glanced at Bruce, impossibly confused at the turn of conversation before I realized JUST who was standing at the center of that group of people.

Jared Spritzer.

THE Jared SPRITZER. Jared Spritzer is a man who's rumored to be THE BEST artist of his generation. He does everything. Media, Entertainment, Animation, Illustration; he's written three books on "Making it in the art world" and his accomplishments are enough to make an aspiring artist _seethe _with jealousy.

Possibly the most recognized face in the artistic world was not only IN Gotham City, but attending this party, and Bruce was just . . . _strolling _up to him without a care in the world, which, I suppose, would make sense considering Bruce's own position.

I didn't know whether or not I might've been hyperventilating because in my mind I was running through every possible scenario, conversation, or artistic topic that this man might arise and I just COULD NOT focus.

It felt like half a second later that Bruce and I were standing outside of the tiny crowd that surrounded Spritzer.

Bruce cleared his throat significantly, and soon all the heads were turned our way. As soon as it was registered that Bruce Wayne and his mysterious no-named 'date' were present, the happy smiles and laughing faces melted into acute curiosity, and perhaps in some cases, jealousy.

Jared Spritzer stopped in the middle of whatever he was saying to his adoring public, and turned around with an exasperated huff. Apparently, he wasn't one to have his attention stolen away from him quite so efficiently.

Strangely enough though, when Spritzer saw that it was no other than Bruce Wayne who'd redirected the attention, his entire demeanor changed. His furrowed brow relaxed and his lips curled into an arrogant smirk.

"Well! It seems as though THE Bruce Wayne has graced us with his presence," Spritzer purred. "And to what, dear Bruce, do I owe this pleasure?"

Bruce smiled and presented me, his 'date' with a graceful sweeping motion.

"Jared, I would like you to meet my date, Miss Katherine Quinzel." Bruce said.

Spritzer raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in my direction, and calmly sized me up for a few moments.

"So THIS is the young woman that's caused quite a stir in Gotham," Spritzer murmured quietly, not quite taking his eyes off my chest, as uncomfortable as that made me. I forced down the blush that threatened to creep across my face at his words, and instead adopted what I hoped to be a coquettish smile.

"Yes, well, I suppose that is to be expected when on the arm of the most well-known bachelor in the city." I laughed with a smile, and immediately internally cringed afterwards.

Did that seriously just come from MY mouth? Bruce turned to look at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement and I could clearly see that he was resisting the urge to laugh.

Jared Spritzer however, only appeared extremely disinterested by my statement. Which, I suppose I couldn't blame him for, considering Bruce's notoriety as a playboy. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about all the other girls that must've hung on Bruce's arm like pretty little ornaments on a Christmas tree; all beautiful, all forgettable.

I resisted the urge to slap myself for my stupidity.

"The reason why I approached you, Spritzer—" Bruce began, successfully breaking me out of my otherwise self-destructive thoughts.

"Please," Spritzer interrupted, giving Bruce a lecherous look. "Call me Jerry."

"May I call you Jared instead?"

Jared huffed in annoyance. "If you absolutely MUST. But do not refer to me as _Spritzer._ It's so . . . _bourgeois . . ._"

"Right. Well, _Jared_-" Bruce said, coughing to try and mask his laughter. "The reason why I approached you, was because I actually wanted to know if you had any job opportunities for aspiring Animators."

My head snapped to attention involuntarily and I eyed Bruce, desperately trying to figure out where he was coming from. Bruce wasn't an artist . . . was he? However, despite the growing intensity of my gaze, Bruce didn't even spare me a glance.

Jared barked out a laugh before smiling brightly at Bruce as if he'd just heard the funniest joke of his life. The group around Jared began laughing uproariously as well for about two seconds before Jared put up a hand in the air and halted the noise.

"Why, Bruce, I had no CLUE that you had a secret passion for uh, _cartoons . . ."_ Jared purred sarcastically.

But Bruce's polite smile never waved. "Actually," He said, placing a hand on the small of my back again. "Katherine here, is a talented artist, and I believe you would be lucky to have her as one of your employees."

The people around Jared Spritzer gasped dramatically, and I almost followed their example.

Now I was full on staring at Bruce. The once coquettish smile that was plastered on my face evaporated immediately as I gave him my best 'what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you're-doing look.

Bruce finally faced me, yet he said nothing and only grinned wolfishly.

Jared Spritzer's smile slid off of his face. He turned to look at me again, but this time, like I'd just crawled out of a sewage pipe.

"Her?!" He exclaimed, aghast. Bruce nodded calmly, entirely unfazed. I, on the other hand was currently in the process of what felt to be some sort of anxiety attack, though I tried valiantly to keep my face neutral.

I was likely failing.

Jared spluttered at bit, looking all the while like a fish out of water. Finally, he calmed enough to draw himself up to his full height and look up at Bruce indignantly before sneering at me disdainfully.

"Mr. Wayne, if you think that for ONE SECOND I'm going to let some faceless _nobody _work under MY name, then you are sorely—"

"OR," Bruce interrupted, his smile still at full capacity. "Word might somehow be leaked to the press that the great Jared Spritzer has rejected the advice of one the most highly regarded _businessmen _in the country . . ."

Jared once again began floundering. He was at a complete loss for words, and I honestly couldn't say that I was any better. Bruce was putting his credibility on the line for me, knowing fully well that if I screw up even ONCE, Spritzer will no doubt flay Bruce in the papers and annihilate his reputation.

Luckily for all of us, a well-dressed man from the 'Spritzer entourage' emerged to whisper something hastily in Jared's ear. Jared went from annoyed, to incredulous, to undeniably interested in the span of about thirty seconds.

I looked to Bruce to see if he had anything to do with this, but he only raised an eyebrow in question back at me.

Jared Spritzer suddenly looked extremely apologetic and turned to face me.

"My dear, how absolutely _barbaric_ of me. I was under the impression that you were some wanton whore hanging on the arm of the richest bachelor in the city just to get ahead." Bruce and I both bristled under the weight of that assumption. I could see Bruce's jaw tighten, but other than that, he made no move to suggest that the comment affected him.

"I had NO IDEA that you are the girl that put on SUCH a disturbingly brilliant display of art the other month in the Fleur de Coup art studio." Jared seemed alarmingly apologetic. Almost as if he'd deeply offended me, yet he actually gave a shit about it.

I blinked several times. My God, that felt like AGES ago, yet it was probably just somewhere around five weeks.

I didn't actually know how to respond to that. "Oh, well, yes. That was indeed I." I laughed nervously.

Jared suddenly threw his hands up in the air. "OH! And what a display it WAS. My God, and those paintings of Gotham's most notorious villain? Simply _captivating." _

It felt like someone poured ice water down my spine at the mention of the Joker. How could I have forgotten that he featured in practically every piece of art in the display?! I chanced a glance at Bruce only to see that he his eyes were a fraction wider, but he didn't outwardly reveal anything.

Looking at him was like looking at a wall and I couldn't help but feel as if I'd really done myself in this time.

Finally, Jared stepped up to me, and ran a hand up and down my shoulder in what I'm sure he intended to be reassuring, yet ended up being highly unnerving.

"I intend to see _you_ at seven sharp Monday morning in my office to go over your starting salary." Jared Spritzer, (THE JARED SPRITZER) said with a surprisingly kind smile.

With that, he spun on his heel and walked away, but not before turning once more to throw me a rather lecherous smile.

"Oh, and Miss Quinzel?" I looked up at him. "The man who accompanied you to the opening of your exhibit, the . . . Jake, or whatever—"

"Jack." I supplied automatically, yet immediately regretted it.

"Ah yes, _Jack. _I heard he was absolutely _delicious." _Jared threw a significant look Bruce's way. "Do keep up the good work, yes?"

He finally left us, his entourage of guests following diligently behind him as he began to spin off on another one of his 'exciting' tales.

I stood there, speechless, trying to absorb the fact that Jared Spritzer had just offered me a job, and found that at the moment, I couldn't.

"What just happened here?" I murmured quietly.

"Well, It looks like you've just been offered a job." Bruce supplied helpfully, yet his voice sounded a little tight.

I mentally slapped myself. Right. Bruce was here, ad he knew that I had done an exhibit. Starring the Joker. Wonderful. I turned around to face him, and found that he wasn't looking at me, but instead, he was trying his best not to glare a hole in the ground.

We stood there tensely like that for a few moments before Bruce lifted his head and forced a smile.

"He let you attend your art exhibit, huh?" Bruce asked, though to me, it sounded more like a statement.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Do I tell him the truth? '_Which is what exactly?"_ I thought. Because I was pretty sure that 'Oh hey, Bruce, I let the Joker model for my artwork, and then accompany me to the exhibit?' would NOT go over well with him.

Bruce stepped closer to me and didn't break eye contact.

"Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything?" He asked, sounding slightly amused, yet there was an angry tinge in his voice that told me he was anything but.

"And your silence isn't really doing anything to restore my faith either . . ."

My mouth felt very dry right then, and so I coughed a bit reflexively before responding. "I'm not being silent at all. I just feel as though," I tried, my voice failing. I tried again. "My time with . . . the Joker, was . . ." I paused, searching for the right words. "Complicated to explain."

Bruce just stared blankly at me. His face was once again an emotionless wall that unnerved me to no end. I felt Goosebumps rising on my skin, and I for the first time since Bruce chased me down that hallway a week ago; I felt scared. This man had so much power with the police; I even heard that he was a good friend of Commissioner Gordon of the GPD.

I couldn't stop the wave of paranoia that hit me, when it sunk in that the man I had . . . befriended? Was entirely capable of setting me behind bars for a good portion of the rest of my life.

But it was more than that too. Bruce mattered to me. He'd saved my life and offered me a place to stay with the highest quality protection money could buy. He'd given me his trust and allowed me into his life, and I was spitting it back in his face because I was infatuated with a sadistic head-case.

I'm sure the indecisiveness and fear reflected on my face quite prominently, because Bruce's face softened slightly, before he sighed.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, reaching to take my hands in his, and pulling me in close. My eyes widened a fraction. That was not what I was expecting to hear.

"I'm being such an inconsiderate asshole right now."

"No, Bruce, it's fine—" I began, feeling guilty.

"No, Katherine, it's not fine. It's perfectly normal not to want to talk about what went on with the Joker." He sighed, squeezing my hands tighter. "I just . . . When I thought of you with him, and how you could've been—"

He cut himself off, not wanting to go there with his line of thinking. Somehow, I didn't think it really had to do with me. It's possible that he'd lost somebody to the Joker before, and immediately, my heart sank even lower.

I had to look away from Bruce's intense gaze. Why did I protect a notorious murderer? How could I have gone along with a plan to help him _escape? _

"Hey, look at me." Bruce said, reaching up to grab my chin in his hand and lift it so that I was looking at him again, and unless I wanted to appear guilty, I had to oblige.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fi—"

"It's not FINE."

I sighed a little before rolling my eyes and smiling at this amazing man. "Alright, then it's _not _fine. But I still forgive you."

Bruce smirked a bit, before his eyes flickered down to my lips and remained there for a second too long.

"I know this whole thing between us may be going a bit fast . . ." Bruce suddenly said, the tone of his voice softening a bit. "But you seem really . . . different. In a good way, that is. And something about you just—just—" Bruce sighed, and I could feel the cool breath on my face. "I can't really explain it."

Bruce's eyes flickered back up to my face. "Do you want me to slow down?" The look in his eyes, though, betrayed the fact that he wanted nothing more than to _speed up _not slow down.

Unfortunately, I did kinda feel like everything was happening so fast, but then again, the events of the last five weeks _alone_ happened fast. I didn't expect any of this, and yet, here I was.

My heartbeat began accelerating rapidly as I finally realized JUST how close we were standing. I would only have to lean in just a bit to kiss him if I wanted, which, right now; I couldn't help but want to.

Bruce tilted his head slightly, pushing one of the ringlets of hair out of my face and behind my ear the way a lover would. Slowly, almost painfully slow, he leaned down.

I think I stopped breathing for a second. He was going to kiss me, and I wasn't going to do anything about it. The moment before I thought his lips would finally brush mine, the sound of something metallic hitting glass rang through the ballroom, and from the shock, I jumped back.

Bruce blinked a few times before his jaw tightened once more; he was clearly aggravated by the interruption. My face grew considerably hotter when I looked around and realized that we'd made a complete spectacle of ourselves ONCE AGAIN, and that people were looking and whispering behind hands in our direction.

I felt something tugging on my hand. It was Bruce.

He smiled sadly at me. "Come on, we'd better go find out table."

I nodded, "You're probably right. Don't want to put on too much of a show for these people." I looked down at the floor for a second to compose myself before smiling tightly and letting him lead us to our table, which, of course was located in the very center of the dining area.

It was a table reserved only for two, and there was a bottle of champagne in a bucket filled with ice next to one of the most beautiful bouquets I've ever laid eyes on.

Once we were seated, we saw the man who'd interrupted our almost kiss. It was the mayor.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," He began, once he'd gathered everyone's attention. "I'd like to thank you for attending our ball commemorating the achievements of Gotham's finest, and for the generous contributions that you've made for out beloved city."

I resisted the urge to smirk. At this point, it just sounded like the mayor was trying to find any excuse to throw a party. Not that I was complaining though. The party gave Roxanne and me the opportunity free the Joker.

As soon as that thought crossed my mind I blanched. I sounded like a criminal, and my guilt threatened to swallow me whole. Here I was, using the man of every girl's dreams to help _The Joker. The same _Joker who had killed countless numbers of people, and would continue to do so, because of me.

And for what exactly? To preserve my reputation? To protect Roxanne? Was that really worth the lives that will continue to suffer at the hands out such a crazed psychopath?

I hadn't realized that the mayor had stopped talking until Bruce spoke up.

"I wonder how many of these 'commemorations' he'll be able to get away with before everyone catches on to his frivolity?" Bruce mused with a hint of a smile.

"Who?" I asked. Not really paying attention.

Bruce nodded his head in the direction of the stage. "The mayor."

"Oh." Then I snorted. "What, and lose the opportunity to flaunt his affluence in Gotham's face? Everyone already knows anyway." I couldn't help but roll my eyes just thinking about it.

Money had never been something I'd have much access to in my life, so I sympathized very little with the obnoxious rich people in the room and their compulsions to shove their money down each other's throats.

Bruce laughed heartily at my comment, which, I hadn't intended to be a joke.

At that moment, music began to play, and people began to stand up and head to the dance floor for the waltz.

Bruce grinned devilishly before standing himself, and offering a hand to help me up.

I looked at him incredulously before laughing. "If you think I'm going to dance in front of all these people then you are smoking some strong stuff, my friend."

"It's called life, Katherine, and it's a special kind of high." Bruce laughed, smiling brilliantly at me. "Come on, what are you, scared?"

I laughed again. "I don't think fear is the exact word for what I'm feeling here, Bruce."

"Then why not?" He challenged.

I looked out at the now dancing people twirling in sync on the dance floor.

"What if I don't know how to waltz?" I challenged back.

"I'll teach you."

"You'll spare yourself a shitload of pain if you just let me sit here . . ."

Bruce smiled even wider if possible. "What, and miss out on the opportunity to tease you mercilessly?"

"Ah, so your intentions emerge." I said with a smile. "In that case, I will definitely NOT dance with you."

Bruce paused for a moment before responding. "If you do not take my hand and dance with me, I will carry you in my arms bridal style, right now, in front of everybody, and I will make sure that the paparazzi outside gets a good look at your face, while I tell you lewd and suggestive comments." Bruce said. One look at his eyes revealed him to be completely sincere.

My face heated up at the mere thought. "I don't respond to threats very well." I said, considerably less confidently.

Bruce grinned at me wolfishly. "No threats; that was a promise."

I could've argued further, but instead I blew out a sigh and reluctantly slipped a hand into his, allowing him to pull me up with his surprising strength.

He then led me to the center of the dance floor before putting me into waltzing position. He then grabbed my waist, pulling me flush against his body, slid my left hand into his right, and lifted his chin up slightly.

He looked at me. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." I muttered with a sigh. I was NOT looking forward to embarrassing myself right then.

"Just follow my lead."

And with that, Bruce then proceeded to swing me in a small circle, his left leg so close to mine, that I could somewhat sense what he was going to do from the proximity.

I was dancing incredibly stiffly, though, clearly uncomfortable and trying my best not to step on him or use the wrong leg at the wrong time. Bruce slowed down and leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

"Relax." He purred, sending shivers in my spine as I did the exact opposite. He laughed. "Don't worry, you're doing better than you think."

"That doesn't mean very much." I replied. How did I get myself into such a situation?

Bruce sighed good naturedly, and slowly, his hand began to crawl up my spine. He put a little pressure near the vertebrae on my back, and almost instantly, I felt my muscles contract, then relax under his fingers.

At first, I completely resisted the feeling as his ministrations felt waaaaay too personal, but he didn't stop, and I couldn't help but feel amazing under the sensation. It was like getting a professional massage, yet Bruce was simply making small circular movements on my back.

Suddenly, he added more pressure.

My eyes widened a bit, and I had to actively keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head, it felt so good.

When Bruce saw that I was finally relaxing, he threw both of us into the dance with gusto. It astonished me at just how much I improved when I was forced to let Bruce lead me around the dance floor, twirling me around effortlessly.

By the fourth spin, I was genuinely beginning to have fun, and I let out a small laugh, thinking about my current situation.

Bruce smiled. "See? It's not so hard."

"What are you doing to my back?" I asked him a bit breathlessly.

Bruce adopted a sort of faraway look in his eyes before looking back at me.

"It's a calming technique, I learned when I went . . . abroad for a few years." He finally said. I felt like there was more to that story, but the dance was almost ending, and I wanted to enjoy the rest of it before asking him to delve a bit deeper.

Sadly the dance ended, and as Bruce was releasing me, I felt a small tap on my shoulder.

"Uh, mind if I cut in?"

My face heated up a bit, as I prepared to reject the person offering me a dance. "Oh, actually, I-"

I turned, and my world stopped. My mouth dropped open slightly, and I could've sworn that my heart stopped beating.

Standing there, face freshly groomed and washed, with slicked back blond hair, donning an all-black suit and purple and green plaid tie was none other than the Joker.

He smiled.

* * *

"Alfred." Roxanne said weakly once more. She felt her voice giving out, as she called out for Bruce Wayne's butler for what was probably the thousandth time.

She slumped against the door and allowed her head to fall back, her exhaustion now getting the best of her. The Joker was free, and he was going after the person who mattered more to her than anyone else in the world. Not only that, but he'd tricked and trapped her, so that she would have no power to do absolutely anything to help save her friend.

The familiar sensation of pressure building up somewhere in her sinuses grew as her frustration peaked.

'_Stupid, stupid, stupid!" _She scolded herself, her hands flying up to her face as the events of the entire week came rushing back to her on one big, emotional rollercoaster.

'_She's going to die and I can't do anything." _Roxanne thought morbidly, the tears now flowing freely down her face. _"I'm so sorry, babe."_

Roxanne had never felt like more of a failure. After every headache she endured this week, and after a month of solid grieving for what she had perceived to be the death of her best friend, she couldn't even manage to succeed at what was supposed to be their 'Get Out of Jail Free' card.

The sobs began to wrack her body even harder, and the fact that she was reduced to tears so easily angered her more than anything else. Her tears would do her absolutely no good, yet she couldn't seem to stop them.

"—_son? Miss Jackson?" _

Roxanne chuckled darkly to herself. _'Wonderful,'_ She thought sarcastically. '_Now I'm hallucinating.'_

"Miss Jackson? Are you all right?" There it was again.

Roxanne lifted her head out of her hands and her heart began beating faster, although she ferociously refused to allow herself to get hopeful. It sounded like Alfred's voice.

"Alfred?" She whispered. There might be a chance. She could save Katherine; there might still be time.

"ALFRED!" She yelled, her voice not nearly as strong as she wished it to be; after hours of screaming, she should've been thankful that she could talk at all, let alone yell.

Roxanne could faintly hear footsteps approaching, and her heart soared with hope.

"ALFRED!" She yelled one last time, giving it everything she had left. Roxanne was rewarded with the sound of a door opening and slamming shut.

Alfred was in the room. Roxanne spun around so that she was sitting, facing the door, and began pounding on it with all her might. She heard the clicking sounds of someone trying to turn a locked doorknob, and felt her heart sink a little when she realized that Alfred couldn't get the door open either.

"Miss Jackson? Is that you?" Alfred questioned, his voice laced with worry.

"Yes," Roxanne uttered weakly, her voice strained from the effort.

"Are you hurt?"

Roxanne tried to deny it, but her voice dissolved into a series of loud coughs. Alfred sucked in a deep breath when he heard Roxanne coughing, and prepped himself.

"Miss Jackson, I'm going to have to ask you to stand as far as you can from the door right now."

Inside the closet, Roxanne quickly scrambled to the far left corner, and braced herself for whatever might occur next. A loud thump broke her anxiety, however, as she realized what Alfred was trying to do.

Two increasingly louder thumps later, and the door all but flew off its hinges, revealing a rather haggard-looking butler.

Roxanne sagged in relief as Alfred rushed to her and checked her for any injuries. Roxanne pushed his hands away, however, and forced him to look at her.

"_Alfred," _She croaked, her voice betraying the pain she felt by speaking alone. "_Katherine, she . . . she's in trouble." _

Alfred shushed her gently. "Miss Jackson, don't speak. Miss Quinzel is fine, she's with Master Wayne."

"No!" Roxanne insisted. Shaking her head violently. She looked at Alfred again, begging with her eyes for him to believe her. "_The Joker . . . he's . . . after her." _

Roxanne fell into another fit of coughing and Alfred's concern immediately grew.

"Miss Jackson, I need to take you to a hospital—"

"_I'm fine, I just . . . yelling . . . a lot." _Roxanne managed to ground out, but the fact that he didn't seem to be listening to her made her angry. There was no time to lose.

"Well, then you desperately need rest—"

"KATHERINE IS GOING TO DIE!" Roxanne finally screamed, her anxiety getting the best of her. She regretted that instantly, however, when her vocal chords began screaming in protest, and she coughed uncontrollably again. Her eyes were tearing up from the pain.

Alfred immediately halted all movements, staring at the coughing girl in his arms with pure shock.

"_Listen . . ." _She begged him once she gained control again. "_The Joker . . . is going after Katherine . . . need to warn her . . . the police . . ." _

Roxanne's words were cut off as she finally passed out from exhaustion. Fortunately for her though, she'd said enough.

Alfred hesitated only for a second, before sweeping the young woman into his arms, and carrying her to Katherine's bed so that she could rest properly. When that was finished, he rushed out of the room heading in the foyer.

Alfred prayed that Bruce had his cell phone in possession, because right now, Katherine didn't need the police; she needed Batman.

* * *

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't even think. I was almost positive that this was what it felt like to die from fear.

I latched on to Bruce's arm like a vise. My mind seemed to reject the very image of the Joker being here, in this room, ready to kill me, and with no one to help me.

But what I really couldn't seem to absorb, was the fact that no matter how hard I scrutinized the Joker's face, his lips looked immaculate, and his scars were no where to be seen. Either he'd visited Gotham's best plastic surgeon within the last two hours, or the Joker was wearing some professionally applied make-up. For obvious reasons, the latter seemed more likely.

Bruce turned to her, concern evident on his face. "You two know each other?" It was obvious that Bruce had no idea that it was the JOKER who was standing here before them. I couldn't really blame him though; if I hadn't seen the Joker in his clean, freshly washed state beforehand, I can't say that I'd have recognized him myself.

The Joker had been observing my reaction with barely concealed amusement, until Bruce spoke up. I, however, was completely incapable of registering anything aside from the immediate danger I was in.

The Joker took that as his cue to speak up. "Why yeeeeessss, Kit—Katherine and I are old uh, colleagues . . ." The Joker's eyes slid to mine, a clearly indication that he wanted me to say something.

My mind finally caught up. "Yeah, um, Bruce, this is my friend—"

"Jack. Pleased to meet you."

Bruce looked unconvinced for a moment, but when the Joker stuck out his hand, he was quick to take it and give it a firm shake.

The Joker's voice sounded different somehow, it sounded smoother, deeper, and a bit . . . predatory. I wondered briefly if that was what his real voice sounded like, but quickly shook the thought away. Now was not the time for trifle thoughts as such.

It was then that I realized that we'd caused somewhat of a traffic jam on the dance floor, and that the next song had already started.

There was a warmth on my hip suddenly, and when I looked down to see what it was, I found the Joker's hand resting firmly on my waist.

"I hope you don't mind," The Joker purred, causing me to look up in shock. He wasn't looking at me though; his words were directed at Bruce, who seemed to bristle a bit. "But I think I'm gonna steal a dance from your uh, _lovely_ date."

The Joker didn't wait for a response. With the hand that rested on my waist, he quickly spun me around, and led me deeper into the crowd of dancing guests. He then put me into position, and smoothly, he led me into a dance.

The feeling was completely different from dancing with Bruce. With Bruce, there was a playfulness, a sort of banter and lighthearted quality to our movements and interactions. But with the Joker, there was no question about who was leading. His movements were assured, and powerful, with no hesitation to them. When I finally couldn't help but look up at him, the intensity of his onyx eyes held me in place.

I felt completely exposed. He trapped me in a sort of cat-and-mouse waltz, where he was looked to be trapping me in, yet I couldn't escape . . . and didn't want to.

With my eyes still locked on his, his beauty again struck me. His perfectly coiffed dirty-blond hair that was gelled to his neck and curled upwards at the bottom, his chiseled face, the intensity of his eyes; it was overwhelming.

"You seemed to have been enjoying your little date, Kitty." The Joker purred, his voice deadly.

"I already told you, it's not a—"

"Your little interactions with him beg to uh, _differ."_ The Joker glared down at me. It was obvious that he'd witnessed the little display with Bruce rubbing my back, and was less than happy about it.

"This is absolutely a date, Kitty." He said. "Or at least, to the playboy, it is." The Joker growled lowly, seemingly repulsed by the idea.

This man was so confusing, one moment he accuses me of dressing like a hooker, and the next, he can't stand to see me around anyone else, and looks like he's about to kill me for it. I couldn't help but wonder how many times must a girl face death before he finally catches up, and grabs her by the collar?

"Did you come here to kill me?" I ask him quietly, my pride returning to me in short bursts as I met his eyes defiantly.

The Joker raised an eyebrow. "And uh, _why, _exactly, would I do that?"

I huffed. "Hell if I know. I just—what are you doing here?"

"What? Is it a crime to come and thank my kidnapper?" The Joker asks innocently, a shark-like grin stretching across his face. "You _wound _me."

I almost recoiled from shock. Somehow, that was the absolute LAST THING I'd expected him to say. And I'm sure that my face betrayed my confusion, because the Joker's grin stretched even wider.

"You want . . . to thank me?" I asked incredulously. There had to be a catch.

"Is that so . . . strange?" The Joker questioned back.

"Well, yes!" I replied instantly.

The Joker acted annoyed. "Oh, Kitty, you're so uh, _bourgeois._ Get with the times!"

"So we suddenly live in an era where being kidnapped is what, socially acceptable?" I quipped. I had to resist the urge to laugh, because this entire situation was just SO unbelievable.

The Joker swung me into a particularly fast turn, and I almost stumbled into his chest.

The Joker leaned down to my ear. "You know Kitty, if you wanted _me _to be the one tied up, all you had to do was ask . . ."

And of course, my automatic reaction was to blush furiously. I refused to lose my cool again, however, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I—I didn't realize that you suffered from Stockholm's Syndrome, Mr. J."

The Joker's eyebrow lifted once more, and his grin curled a little. "Well Miss Quinzel, there's a lot of things that you don't know about me. Like, when my kidnapper _just happens_ to be a leggy 23 year old blond, I uh, can find it in my heart to make a few . . . exceptions."

For some strange reason, instead of his words eliciting further embarrassment from me, they stirred my anger. I still hadn't gotten over the whole "hooker' comment earlier today, and so the fact that he was now _complimenting _me pissed me off.

"Oh, so now I've been promoted from a sleazy-looking escort to a 'leggy 23 year old blond' now have I?" I asked blithely, feeling more courageous than I have in a few days.

The Joker's face twitched with some foreign emotion that he was apparently trying to hold back.

Luckily for him, that's when the song ended, and from the corner of my eye, I could see what looked to be Bruce approaching us again. Only he seemed to be walking with purpose for some unknown reason.

The Joker hadn't responded to my comment, and because of that, I was still annoyed, and I tried to pull away from the Joker to Bruce, only to have my hand grabbed.

"And uh, where, _ex-actly_, do you think you're going?" The Joker asked me in a warning voice.

I looked up to face him while my anger and confusion battled for dominance.

"Back to Bruce. The dance is over, you apologized, there's nothing else, so now, you can be finally finished with me." I said, yet, instead of the Joker releasing me, his grip only tightened.

Suddenly, the room seemed a few degrees cooler. "Oh, sweet, naïve, precious, Kitty. Haven't you figured it out by now?"

The Joker's other hand came around to circle my waist.

What really stood out to me, I think, was the soft quality of his voice. His words, though laced with sickly sweet venom, where almost . . . genuine.

"I'll never be finished with you."

The last thing I heard was sound of Bruce's footsteps stopping abruptly, before the Joker grabbed my face, leaned down, and kissed me.

* * *

_**A/N: AAAAHHH~! The moment we've ALL been waiting for has finally arrived. I know a lot of you have been LITERALLY begging me for this, so here you go. Thank you for all of your reviews, BUT PLEASE CONTINUE TO REVIEW, lemme know how much you love the story, and I'll keep on with it. :D **_

_**-Tootaloo~! .Serenade.7  
**_


	20. Revealed

_**A/N: No, this isn't a mirage. Sigh, well, I suppose I could go on about how I was dealing with a bunch of shit from school and trying to get over some rejection and whatnot, but honestly, I think I should just get on with the update. SPECIAL thank you to everyone reading this right now, whether you just decided to read this, or if you've stuck with me the entire time. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS. They were so heart-warming. :) Enjoy~!**_

* * *

**Chapter 20**

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**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
**

Time seemed to freeze around us.

The Joker's kiss was everything I'd ever imagined, and at the same time, nothing I'd ever felt. It was almost as if he'd sucked the air right out of my lungs with the first graze of his lips, because I felt so lightheaded while he kissed me that I feared for a second I might float right out of the room.

The shock of his actions rendered me completely unresponsive to the kiss at first, however, and the only thing I could do at that moment was to stare with my eyes wide open. The Joker had his eyes closed, but when he didn't feel me respond, he increased the intensity of the kiss by pressing his lips harder on mine, and shoving one hand in my hair to keep me in place.

THAT got a reaction out of me. I couldn't fight the low mewl that escaped my lips, and the noise allowed his tongue to slip between my lips and explore my mouth. To my surprise, he tasted somewhat sweet as his tongue swept around inside. Finally, my eyes fluttered shut from the sensation, and that's when I began to kiss him back.

My sudden responsiveness made the Joker growl and snake his free arm around my waist, pulling my body flush against his so that I could feel every inch of muscle through his expensive deep black tux, as well as the growing hardness between his legs.

Our lips melted together perfectly as we moved in sync and our tongues battled for dominance. The weeks of temptations and innuendos and barely repressed sexual desire came boiling to the surface through our lips, and the passion of it all absolutely swept me away.

The kiss made me see bursts of light behind my eyelids, and in the back of my mind, I realized that I couldn't for the life of me, remember my name, or anything else for that matter, because apparently, my brain was melting. I couldn't get over how good it felt; I didn't know that kisses could actually make my knees weak and my heart threaten to leap out of my chest. _THIS_ is what all the romantic novels and smutty books that Roxanne was obsessed with were writing about. THIS is kissing.

The duration of the kiss felt like hours to me, when in reality it was just enough time for every single guest in the room to get over their initial shock. I had time to process a dark energy approaching me from behind before a pair of strong hands grabbed me by my waist, and threw me down hard on the granite-tiled floors.

Nothing would have worked better to shock me out of my hazy state of mind short of dousing my entire body with cold-water shot from a fire hose. I then raised my head and turned just in time to see the Joker get cold-clocked by none other than Bruce Wayne.

The look in Bruce's eyes were nothing short of feral as he glared ferociously at the man I'd been kissing passionately not three seconds prior.

It was then that I'd noticed the room had been completely silent throughout the entire ordeal. Every guest was looking on as if they'd just received box-tickets to the world's most highly anticipated event. The women all collectively gasped at the sight of Bruce punching the Joker, and the men flinched.

Bruce stood over the Joker who was clutching his chin, a large, triumphant, unmistakably sleazy grin plastered onto his face. Bruce's body was coiled tightly with barely restrained fury, and I could even see his fists shaking with adrenaline.

"_No, no, no no, Katherine, YOU IDIOT. What the FUCK have you done?!"_ I berated myself. I desperately urged the world to stop spinning and my limbs to quit imitating heated jell-o because I had to do _something_ to fix this, dammit!

My head snapped back to the scene between Bruce Wayne and the Joker when I heard everyone in the room gasp and shriek with terror.

The Joker was now fully smiling up at Bruce, his hands no longer covering his face, and I, just like everyone in the room saw the absolute last thing we wished to see.

Whatever make-up the Joker had used to camouflage his scars were wiped off and smudged all about his face, revealing the hideous marks trailing from the corner of his lips almost to his ears. And the fact that the Joker was smiling so wildly only emphasized his scars, and strained the stitched skin that held his smile together.

"Ha, Ha, Ha," The Joker said, smile still in place. "Hee hee. Oh ho, ho, Ohhhh, Brucey-boy . . . why the uh, long face?" The Joker mocked. He seemed entirely unfazed by the fact the Bruce looked murderous.

Bruce's fists were clenched even tighter. "You like taking advantage of innocent women, Joker?" Bruce sneered. "Or should I call you _Jack?"_

The Joker raised an eyebrow at that, glanced at me still lying on the floor, struggling to regain my equilibrium, and then glanced back at Bruce, his grin expanding further as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Hmm, strange. I don't appear to recall any uh, resistance when I kissed your _date_ there, Mister Wayne. How interesting that you say that, though. Maybe you and I aren't referring to the same kiss . . ." The Joker paused, and relished in the twitching of Bruce's mouth the more he spoke.

"_This like watching the countdown of a ticking time-bomb,"_ I thought to myself as I observed their conversation_. "If I could just get myself up on my elbows, I could . . ."_

"But then again, _YOU_ weren't the one kissing her—"

"AGH!" I wailed, falling back to the cold floor. My right shoulder throbbed painfully and I realized that when I fell it must have been dislocated.

The sound of my agonized wail caused every head in the room to turn to look at me. Bruce however, was the only one who actually paused and lost his guard when I screamed. The Joker, ever the opportunist, took advantage of Bruce's momentary lapse of focus, and tried to kick Bruce's feet out from under him.

Bruce didn't turn in time to dodge the onslaught, but he did manage to impressively cushion the blow by spinning mid-air to land on his hands instead of his back. The Joker got up quickly and made a move to kick Bruce in the ribs. Bruce caught the Joker's foot, however, jumped up to his feet, and shoved the Joker backwards.

The Joker then began to laugh, and pulled out a knife from a secret pocket within his tux.

"You know." He growled, licking his lips. " You fight awfully well for a pampered rich kid."

Bruce pulled up his fists to his body in a boxing position. "Yeah, well. I've picked up a few tricks."

The Joker grinned. "Ooh. I do like tricks." He purred. He glanced to the side of the room where I sat, before looking back at Bruce.

"Speaking of tricks . . ." The Joker's hand shot in and out of his inner tuxedo pocket with lightning speed as he pulled out a handful of pellet-sized balls. The joker burst out into his signature laughed as he tossed the balls into the air.

The room was filled with panic as the balls exploded on the floor, and smoke billowed up from each small pellet as the room filled with dark gray smoke. People began screaming and scrambling to find the exit before some terrible catastrophe went down.

But before the smoke could obscure Bruce's vision of the Joker, he launched himself at the clown and tackled him to the floor.

Bruce straddled the Joker and reared back his arm to unleash a series of blows to the Joker's face.

Finally, Bruce stopped and grabbed a handful of the Joker's tuxedo, forcing the Joker's face up.

"Cute trick, but did you really think that it would succeed in distracting me?"

The Joker's eyes rolled in his head for a few moments before he began to laugh. He looked at Bruce, and smiled.

"Who said anything about distracting _you?"_

Throughout the entire ordeal, I had been clutching my arm to my body and struggling to regain my balance. Finally, the sight of the Bruce attacking the Joker forced enough adrenaline through my veins to allow me to stand up with minimal difficulty.

"_Oh, God."_ I thought desperately. _"Bruce is going to get hurt, I need to get—"_

My thoughts were interrupted as two cloaked, masked figures flocked each side of my body and grabbed me by my arms.

I screamed as the masked figures then proceeded to manhandle me and force me in some direction, away from Bruce and the Joker.

I tried kicking away from them with everything I had; I was using my arms, my legs, my feet, my head; anything and everything. Hot, and severe pain shot through me when my struggling only served to dislocate my arm further. Any movement I then made caused tears to well up in my eyes and a scream to rip from my lips. I had no choice but to allow the figures to lead me away as my right shoulder throbbed angrily for fear that I would pass out from the pain.

Bruce heard me scream and reflexively turned in the direction of the sound. The Joker's legs then came up around Bruce's torso and the Joker used Bruce as leverage to swing his entire body up and pin Bruce to the floor, sharp little knife still in hand.

"Oh, Brucey, Brucey, Brucey. Such amateur-like behavior . . ." The Joker scolded. "Didn't your _mommy_ ever tell you to uh, stay away from women?" The Joker then pretended to pause before gasping dramatically.

"OH, that's right! Your _mommy _was murdered!" The Joker laughed hysterically, and Bruce growled as he fought to free himself from the Joker's hold.

"Whoa! Hold on there, big boy," The Joker said, grabbing Bruce and slamming his head on the hard floor. There a small knife still poised in the Joker's hand, and he pressed it against Bruce's throat.

Bruce coughed and glared up at the Joker. "And what about you?" Bruce asked.

The Joker tilted his head. "And uh, _what_ _about_ me?"

"You don't usually go around dressed up in your Sunday best and kiss other people's dates." Bruce stated. There was a steel glint in Bruce's eyes as he remembered the kiss.

The Joker seemed to be remembering it too, because a slow grin crept up one of the corners of the joker's mouth.

"Hmm . . . and uh, why don't I do that again?"

Bruce smirked. "You like her."

All signs of amusement vanished from the Joker's face as he stared into the Brown eyes of Bruce Wayne. Bruce's smirk grew.

The Joker scoffed, and that scoff then turned to laughter.

"Oh, Bruce. Grasping for straws now, are we?"

"You _LIKE _her, don't you?" Bruce accused. "That's why you kidnapped her and that's why you kissed her."

The Joker licked his lips and his eyes narrowed in a rare expression of genuine fury. "You're treading on _veeeeery_ thin ice, Mister Wayne . . ."

"How does it feel, _Jack?"_ Bruce said, the Joker flinched at the use of that name. "How does it feel to be _weak?" _

With that, Bruce forced his head up and it made contact with the Joker's nose with a sickening crack. Bruce then used his leg to land a blow to the Joker's ribs, effectively forcing the air from the Joker's lungs.

The Joker kneeled on the floor, clutching his ribs, and wheezed, trying to get the air back in his lungs.

Bruce took this opportunity to get to his feet.

"You see, Joker," Bruce began, not sparing the gasping clown a glance. "The thing about _love_ . . . is that it leaves you vulnerable; It makes you _human." _Bruce said human like one would say cockroach. "You can't even defeat a 'pampered playboy' like me, and you know why?"

Bruce turned around to face the Joker and deliver the final blow only to see him pull the trigger.

A loud gunshot reverberated within the walls of the elegant dining hall.

There was no sound from either man save for the Joker's soft wheezing as he clutched the rifle gun in his left hand.

Bruce touched the small hole in his suit with his right hand, before collapsing to the floor.

A few moments went by before the Joker finally had enough oxygen to pull himself up from the marble floor, and get to his feet. He staggered forward, slowly heading towards Bruce's body.

Without a second glance, the Joker picked up his feet a bit more, hurried past Bruce, and headed to the door. The joker leaned on it heavily, before chuckling quietly to himself.

"You know what's _funny_, Brucey?" The Joker asked, a smile crawling across his face. "I've never been referred to as a . . . _human." _

With that, the Joker exited the room with Bruce still facedown on the floor; the sound of the heavy mahogany doors closing echoing behind him.

* * *

I winced and hissed loudly as the goons continued to drag me around, and the pain was starting to grow unbearable.

I had no idea why the goons were leading me UP the stairs to the top of the building. It didn't look like the plan was to necessarily LEAVE the building, and I wondered why, but I was in much too much pain to be concerning myself with it at that moment.

My momentary lapse of focus caused me to slip on one of the infinite stairs, and the goon holding my injured arm pulled me up, exacerbating my pain to the point where I couldn't stop myself from crying out loudly.

"AY! Robbie! Be a bit more careful, dipshit!" The other goon hissed angrily. "She's the boss' so don't break her."

'Robbie' scoffed indignantly. "The bitch fell, what am I s'posed to do? _Fly _her up the stairs?"

"Stop bein' a smartass. You wanna piss off the boss?"

Robbie didn't answer.

"That's what I thought. Now shut up and stop bein' an asshole."

I think that Robbie must've muttered something about the goon's 'mama' under his breath, but it was ignored and we continued up the stairs.

The persistent throbbing in my arm died down to a low thrum of pain by the time we reached the roof of the building, yet I couldn't risk injuring it more by trying to escape the two goon's iron-like grips.

The goon on my left open the heavy door and shouldered his way through, pulling me behind him by yanking on my uninjured arm. When all three of us were through the door and to the roof, the goons started pushing me forward.

My eyes widened dramatically, and I opened my mouth to yell out or scream when I realized that we were approaching the edge of the roof.

The height of the building was DEFINITELY enough to kill someone three times over, so there was no hope of getting out of THAT alive.

THEN I began to pull and writhe and twist out of the goon's grips, ignoring the sharp, white-hot pains in my right arm.

The goons didn't budge, though, and they only continued to pull my body at the same pace.

My eyes were closed during the struggle, however. So I failed to notice the dark green and purple couch near the edge of the roof and shrieked at the top of my lungs when the two large goons suddenly flung my body in the air, only to land safely on the furniture.

My head was spinning and my breath was coming out in short gasps as I filled my lungs with the air that had whooshed out suddenly from screaming so loudly. It was then that I absorbed the reality that I had not been flung off the roof and sent to my inevitable death, but was seated within a somewhat strangely . . . casual living room setting?

Alongside the green chair was a deep purple loveseat and a small brown coffee table resting upon a giant red-spotted white rug.

To say that I was confused would be an understatement. Curiously I glanced at the two goons who stood a few feet apart from one another with their hands behind their backs and their legs firmly shoulder-width apart.

They said nothing, nor did they even grace me with a look as I sat there awkwardly.

Since it appeared that I would be waiting for a moment, my mind wandered in a direction that I _truly _resisted.

Bruce.

The Joker.

The Kiss.

The Fight.

I stood up straighter as the hairs on my arms rose. Fear and anxiety bubbled in my stomach as I contemplated what might be happening to Bruce at the hands of the Joker. Was there any chance that he'd survive the encounter, or would his name be added to the exceedingly large list of casualties at the hands of that . . . maniac?

I had no doubt in my mind that Bruce would be harmed, though. With literally nothing and no one to defend him, the best that Bruce could hope for would be to get knocked unconscious and left relatively alive.

With a tinge of regret, I doubted that Bruce would be able to find it in his heart to forgive me for that kiss, though.

"_What did you possibly expect letting THE JOKER, kiss you like that?" _I asked myself.

There was a split second of denial. A moment where I fought against the truth; that I, Katherine Quinzel, let myself fall prey to the Joker's lips.

But in my heart, I knew that I honestly just couldn't help myself. The act was just so forbidden and taboo and sinful—My mind simply short-circuited and I was helpless against it all. The feeling was like nothing else I'd ever felt. Not with Bruce, and not even with my first, Malcolm. I've never had every nerve in my body simply catch on fire from the sheer intensity of just _one kiss._

And _I_ _let him_ kiss _me_.

But what does this mean, exactly? Against all odds, do I truly hold feelings for the Joker?

I wasn't aware of the amount of time that had passed before my contemplations were once again interrupted as a loud BANG erupted from the other side of the roof.

My head swiveled around, and my eyes instantly locked with the almost glowing onyx pools of hate that were the Joker's eyes.

His face twisted into the nastiest snarl, and at that moment he looked like a demon from hell, and growled furiously.

"Jesus, who THE FUCK'S idea was it to make these buildings so GODDAMN TALL, with so many fucking STAIRS?" The Joker fumed.

His chest was quickly rising and falling, and his right hand clutched his torso tightly as he began to stagger over to where we all were.

No one was stupid enough to say anything about his injuries, though. And my heart dropped like lead into my stomach as I realized that he must've been injured fighting Bruce.

Whether or not my concern was aimed at the Joker, or at Bruce, I didn't want to think about.

The goons parted so that the Joker could walk over to the purple loveseat, where he fell unceremoniously into the chair.

He spent a good minute or so just breathing with his head craned up, staring blankly at the night sky before tilting his head to acknowledge my presence across from him.

He flung his arms wide open and gestured to the quaint little arrangement.

"Do you, uh, like the digs?" He asked.

I looked about the arrangement once more.

"It's . . . tasteful."

It was best to say very little in the moments where the Joker's mood couldn't be determined.

The Joker scoffed and lowered his arms. "Yeah, What a uh, dumb question. Of course you like it! That couch is the only thing between you and thousands of feet of . . . _no-thing_."

I couldn't resist the urge as my head began to turn and I saw that the couch _was,_ in fact, the only thing in between the roof and me.

'_Is this how the Joker wants to kill me?'_ I thought morbidly as I slowly turned back around and met the Joker's eyes that were dancing with malice.

The Joker licked his lips. "You know, Kitty. I think it's been too long since you and I've had a little . . . heart-to-heart chat, dontcha think? I mean, look at you!" The Joker's eyes roamed slowly over my body and left a trail of goosebumps everywhere that his eyes met my exposed skin. "You landed yourself the most highly desired date in the city, AND you uh, made out with Gotham's most notorious criminal—all in . . . one day!"

The Joker smiled. "You must be feeling quite . . . _special_, hmm?"

My lips curled sarcastically. "I'm not quite sure about the choice of the word 'special' . . ."

The Joker grinned before looking away mock-thoughtfully.

"Well now that just uh, that won't do, now will it, Miss Quinzel? Hmm . . ." The Joker looked back up at me, and this time, his onyx eyes searched directly into my hazel ones.

"See, ordinarily, I'd ask _you_ to uh, put in your two cents, but you seem to be a bit . . . distracted . . ." The Joker licked his lips without breaking eye contact with me.

"Now, uh, why. Would. THAT. BE, hmm?" The Joker asked with a devious smirk. He stood up slowly from the purple loveseat and began to saunter over to where I sat on the green couch.

"What could have _possibly _dragged your attention away from this, uh, mysterious and dastardly-handsome _mad-man_, Kitty?" The Joker flopped down right next to me on the deep green couch, and leaned in so that our faces were only about a foot apart.

"I'm not—"

"Shh . . ." The Joker said, placing his purple-gloved index finger on my lips. "Don't lie to me Kitty, you KNOW I don't like liars . . ."

I blinked rapidly. '_He's going to do it again.' _I thought, excitement bubbling up from my stomach. '_He's going to kiss me again, and help me, God, I'm going to let him.'_

He was closing the distance between us until our lips were literally _inches_ apart, and I fought. I _fought _against my feelings. I didn't want the butterflies to be fluttering in my stomach, or for the warmth to spread inside me. I didn't want my muscles to relax around him, or to be pulled so deeply by him.

I wanted none of it, yet even with every inch of my willpower, my body would not obey my commands, and soon I felt my eyelids begin to flutter shut as I waited for the electric jolt that resulted from such contact.

"Are you worried about Bruce?"

My eyes snapped open and my mind was shocked into alertness.

"Wha—wait, wha—" I spluttered, trying to make sense of the unexpected question.

The joker's eyes were burning holes into my skull with the sheer intensity of his gaze.

"I _saw_ you with him, kitty." The Joker growled furiously. "The way you laughed with him, the way he_ fucked you _with his _eyes . . ._ I saw you giggle and flirt, as the playboy took my _things." _

The Joker's hands shot out and grabbed my face tightly, tangling themselves in my hair and completely messing it up.

"Joker," I pleaded, fear polluting my mind—I couldn't get any words out.

"YOU BELONG TO ME!" The Joker roared. His chest rose and fell and he was heaving angrily. "He CAN'T touch you because you ARE MINE!"

With that, the Joker crushed his lips to mine. This kiss was NOTHING like the first one. Everything was so raw and passionate. I tasted blood in my mouth as I felt the Joker nip and bite my lips ferociously before using his tongue to lick the injuries.

I whimpered at the pain and put my hands against his face to try and push him away from me.

Something wasn't right. The Joker had never acted this way with me. He was rough and violent, but almost . . . crazed. Desperate even.

The Joker growled when I almost succeeded in pushing his face away. He then removed one hand from my hair to snake his arm around my waist and pull me to him tightly, making me extremely uncomfortable because I was leaning really far back in his arms.

"MINE." The Joker growled against my lips, making my face flush and my heart race.

I didn't know what to do. He was everywhere. I could feel every inch of his body, regardless of all the clothes he was wearing, and the scent of gunpowder and something spicy that coated his body threatened to consume me.

When his tongue finally swept into my mouth, I moaned loudly. All of these emotions, these feelings, my senses, EVERYTHING was too much.

I couldn't handle what I was doing. How many people I was betraying.

People like Bruce.

My eyes shot open, and with a strength I didn't posses, I shoved the Joker away from my face and down onto the couch.

I was panting and heaving, and my entire body was coiled, and ready to, if necessary, fight.

But the Joker just laid there where he fell, with his eyes wide open, panting as heavily as I was. He just looked so . . . disoriented. He stared up at the night sky and blinked from time to time.

I realized I'd completely forgotten about the goons' presence on the roof with us, but when I looked around it seemed as if they'd left sometime ago while the Joker and I were . . . doing what we were doing.

I had no clue as to what I might've been expected to do in that moment. The Joker wasn't saying anything. I wasn't saying anything, and anyone could've cut the tension with a fucking _knife. _

After a few minutes of dead silence, the Joker let out a small chuckle.

The sound instantly put me on even higher alert.

The chuckle was soon joined by another, and then another, until finally, the joker dissolved into a borderline crying fit of laughter.

"Look at me!" he exclaimed, flinging his left arm to cover his eyes. "I'm weak! The playboy . . . that asshole was right. She's made me weak . . ."

I had no idea what he was talking about, or whom the joker was referring to, but the mention of Bruce sent a sharp pang in my heart.

My hands began to shake, and I looked down at the floor.

"Is he alive?" I asked quietly.

The Joker snorted crudely. "Not unless the poor bastard's immune to bullets."

Moisture began to collect in my eyes as the numbness began to spread. The Joker's words couldn't be clearer: Brice is dead. I killed him.

Bruce is dead, and it's my fault.

My fault.

_MY _fault.

Me.

I'm responsible for the death of the man that rescued me, and allowed me a place in his home. Oh God, Alfred, he—I killed Bruce and I—

The tears began to fall in earnest now. There was nothing I could do about this. I KILLED A MAN all because of my deceptions.

Will Roxanne ever be able to look at me the same way?

I sniffled.

Huge mistake. The Joker flung himself up into sitting position so quickly that I actually screamed.

The Joker looked disgusted. His face with curled with repulsion, and he regarded me with so much hate that I flinched away.

"You're . . . _crying?"_

I didn't respond. I couldn't look at him, and I still couldn't stop the tears.

There was a pause.

"Did you love him?" The Joker asked me. His voice was quiet, and seemingly calm. And he sounded so sane in that moment that I managed to glance up at his face, which was now a mask of indifference.

Did I love Bruce?

I admired his power and charm and way with people, as well as his strength that emerged from the death of his family.

I liked the way he smiled, or how he would say my name. I felt a great debt to him for giving my best friend and me a place to stay in our time of need. I liked his sense of humor, his sense of style, the almost mocking-quality to his voice . . . but did that mean I loved him?

"_No." _I said, just as the thought crossed my mind. I didn't love Bruce. I couldn't love him.

I couldn't love Bruce because I was already in love with the Joker.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

* * *

**_MAN things, are kinda heating up here, aren't they? I really just wanted to get a chapter out to you guys because it's been SOOOOOO long. LOL. _**

**_BUT, if you can believe it, all the reviews did kinda sorta totally guilt trip me into updating faster, SO YEAH. :D I would absolutely love some feedback, good or bad. Thanks again people. :)  
_**

**_-SO MUCH LOVE,  
_**

**_Songsthatserenade7  
_**


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